For Lack of a Bezoar
by BolshevikMuppet99
Summary: Canon Divergence from HBP. When Harry fails to save Ron's life in Slughorn's office, he and Hermione are thrust into a search for answers. But the path is thornier than either of them could have possibly imagined.
1. Four Seconds

**AN: YOU KNOW HOW IT GOES. I DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER.**

 **ENJOY**

 **11/06/20—If you've received notifications about this story being updated, it's because I went back to fix some grammar and spelling issues. As much as I wanted to, I have made no changes to plot or prose, except to remove some of the god-awful stuttering. Maybe one day I'll rewrite the story itself to fix up some of the plot and prose issues, but for now it's just grammar changes.**

Chapter 1: Four Seconds.

"Ron had dropped his glass; he half-rose from his chair and then crumpled, his extremities jerking uncontrollably. Foam was dribbling from his mouth and his eyes were bulging from their sockets.

'Professor!' Harry bellowed. 'Do something!'

But Slughorn seemed paralysed by shock. Ron twitched and choked: his skin was turning blue.

'What - but -' spluttered Slughorn.

Harry leapt over a low table and sprinted towards Slughorn's open potion kit, pulling out jars and pouches, while the terrible sound of Ron's gargling breath filled the room."—J. -Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.

* * *

He searched frantically, his hands flying through the Potions-Kit, knocking its contents around in their rummaging.

A vial flew out and smashed on the stone floor, its acidic stench filling the room.

Harry didn't smell it. His senses seemed to be entirely focused on the terrible rasp of Ron's attempts at breathing.

He didn't think of summoning the Bezoar. Later, he would hate himself for that. Later, he would think about how Accio may have saved his life against a dragon, how it definitely saved his life in the graveyard, and how stupid was he that he couldn't use it to save his friend's life?

Later, he would think about that. Right then, as he scrambled through Slughorn's bag, his mind was entirely consumed by the pinpoint desire to find the stone.

And then triumph roared inside him as his hand closed on the Bezoar, and best of all, he could still hear Ron fighting for breath behind him.

He knew that while Ron was still trying to breathe there was still time.

He twisted around, barely noticing the relief flashing across Slughorn's face. He ignored the thought of ' _useless bastard!'_ that flitted through his mind at the sight.

His eyes were set only on Ron's face. He ran toward the prone boy, gripping the Bezoar tightly, watching with horror how Ron's breathing was slowing, how his chest was heaving less strongly, how his freckles had been blocked out by the thick black veins creeping their way over his face.

He ran, and he wasn't looking down, and so he didn't see the loose stone in the floor, didn't notice how it poked out of the ground at an angle.

And, sprinting, when his shoe collided with it, he flew forward.

And as he landed with a grunt, his funny bone smashed into the hard floor, making his entire arm spasm, making his hand twist out and toss the Bezoar across the room.

He locked his gaze on it, panic clouding his mind. Ron's breathing was getting harsher, the rasped attempts sounding somehow shallower.

He dived forward, the need to reach the Bezoar and get it to Ron before it was too late pushing him into unthinking action.

He dived forward, and he didn't hear Slughorn calling out "Accio Bezoar!"

He was halfway to it when the stone started flying through the air.

His hand reached out for it, his Seeker's instincts honed, his fingers driven by pure need.

Maybe it was the way his fingers were still slightly numb from the bump to his elbow. Maybe it was the specific angle that the Bezoar was flying at relative to his body.

Whatever it was, his fingers closed, not catching it, instead somehow knocking it to the ground.

It only took him another four seconds to grab it off the floor and scramble to his feet.

But those four seconds were four seconds too many.

Part of his mind realized it instantly when he looked at his friend again. His mind went blank as it took in Ron's sightless eyes, as he understood what his unmoving chest meant.

But he still continued. Functioning on autopilot, he shoved the Bezoar into Ron's mouth, hoping against hope, hoping for a miracle.

But Fawkes did not appear suddenly to cry his healing tears. Dumbledore did not appear to animate a statue, no.

The Bezoar fell out of Ron's mouth with a soft plop.

And as Slughorn gently put a hand on his shoulder and said something that he couldn't hear through the rushing in his ears, Harry dropped to his knees next to the still body of Ron Weasley.

* * *

The next few hours passed him in a daze. It was a feeling that he would become quite familiar with over the next few days.

A feeling like he was only attached to his body by a thin string, a feeling like he was dreaming. A feeling like he was somehow outside of his body, like he was watching himself, as if through a series of photographs.

People talked to him, but the words didn't really register in his mind.

He talked to Dumbledore, who Floo'd to the Weasleys to tell them the news.

He just sat in the Headmaster's office while he was gone, staring blankly at the wall.

Vaguely, he wondered why it had been so different with Sirius. With Sirius, he had realized, hell, accepted the death minutes after it had happened. With Sirius, he had felt pain, felt anger.

With Sirius, he had smashed half of Dumbledore's precious instruments as he raged.

This time, he stared at the wall of portraits in Dumbledore's office and felt nothing.

Eventually, Dumbledore came back, Mr and Mrs Weasley in tow.

Before he had even had a chance to comprehend their appearance, Molly had seized him in a tight hug, her body heaving with her great sobs.

He tried to apologize, tried to tell her how he should have done better, how he shouldn't have tripped, how he should have saved her son.

She refused to hear it. She pulled him close, nearly smothering him, and through her tears talked about how he and Hermione would be staying at them from the next day until at least a few days after the funeral. She told him how she still saw them as all but family, how Ron would want them there.

He didn't cry. He couldn't. He just nodded, as the entire chain of events began to play inside his head again.

Arthur hugged him too, but he didn't talk. He looked confused and lost, a far sight from the happy man Harry had always known him to be.

At some point, McGonagall arrived with Ginny, and pulled Harry out of Dumbledore's office, leaving the headmaster with Ron's parents and sister.

And then, she hugged him.

It was surprising enough, coming from his strict head of house, that it actually broke through his stupor.

"Mr Potter. Harry. I know how close you two were," and her voice choked up with emotion, her brogue coming out in the heat of her pain. "I want you to know that I'm available to talk. Please. When you're ready."

His mind went blank again, something short-circuiting at the thought of talking about what had happened in Slughorn's office.

In his mind's eye, he could still see the strange colours that Ron's face had gone.

"Thank you, Professor."

She looked at him for a long moment, before sighing and shaking her head.

* * *

He stared at the Marauder's Map, looking for the dot labelled Hermione Granger.

His eyes skated over the pacing dot of Draco Malfoy in Snape's office.

Later, he would have the chance to think about that. But right then, his mind was blank, and he didn't even wonder who the perpetrator was.

Of course, he found her dot in the library, sitting near Neville.

He croaked out: "Mischief managed," and tapped the Map, leaving it blank.

And, with a lingering look at Ron's bed, he left his room.

It was beyond strange to him, how normal everything seemed. How, as he walked through the corridors toward the library, nothing seemed to have changed.

Students were still running around, portraits were still talking to one another, ghosts were still floating through the walls.

It wasn't right. Everything should have just stopped, with Ron dead. With Ron having scratched his throat almost bloody, as he tried to breathe. With Ron's face having gone all purple and black.

They shouldn't have just kept on like usual.

He found himself turning a corner in the library, arriving in front of Hermione's desk.

She was looking behind her, to the table where Neville sat. From the sounds of it, she had been answering some question he had on their Charms homework.

Harry just stood there in the lamplight, unable and unwilling to break Hermione's last seconds of normality.

But then she turned back to her book, having finished answering Neville, and she gave a little squawk of surprise at his presence.

"Harry! Don't do-Harry?"

And then she stood up, face suddenly paling and looking alarmed. She must have caught something from his appearance, because her hand rose to her mouth, and she looked downright terrified.

"Harry? What- "

He forced himself to speak, forced the words past the sudden blockage in his vocal cords.

"Hermione. It's-it's Ron. He's- "

He couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't bring himself to do it. She was shaking by then, whispering "no."

Neville stood up in a rush, his chair falling to the ground behind him with a clatter.

"Harry? What's going on?"

He didn't take his eyes off of Hermione. Made the words come out, even though they didn't really mean anything. Even though saying them brought up a pain that stabbed through his numb haze.

"Ron. He's-he's dead."

* * *

He shoves his hands into the potion-kit, searching for the Bezoar.

Immediately, his hand closes around it, the rough stone rubbing at his fingers.

He turns around triumphantly and is instantly at Ron's side.

He shoves the stone in Ron's mouth, and, right away, Ron's breathing goes back to normal, his face returning to its normal colour in a blink of an eye.

Ron jumps up and hugs him, spewing his gratitude.

But for some reason, there are tears streaming down Harry's face, blurring his vision.

And then Ron's still hugging him, but his face is all black, his chest is still.

Harry woke up with a gasp, sitting bolt upright in his four-poster bed.

His gaze automatically flew to Ron's bed, to the moonlight streaming over the Quidditch posters on the wall.

He dropped back into bed with a groan, eventually falling asleep with tears running down his face and a gaping hole inside of him.

* * *

And then they were arriving at the Burrow. Hermione caught him when he staggered, holding him up, preventing him from falling.

The silence in the burrow was unnatural, as shocking to the system as a cold shower. There were no loud, joyous conversations taking place. No small explosions from Fred and George's room.

They'd barely been there for long enough to dust the soot off of their robes when Fred and George walked in, both of them lacking their customary grins.

"Hey," George whispered, while Fred cast silencing charms on the door and walls. "You got in all right?"

They nodded wordlessly.

Fred caught Harry's eye and seemed to read the silent question.

"Everyone else is sleeping," he explained. "Well, Fleur had to go to work, but she's handing in the forms for her and Bill to take a leave of absence."

"How-how's everyone doing?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

The twins exchanged a dark look, an unspoken conversation passing between them.

"Bad," Fred said. George turned his head to the side for a moment, rubbing at his eyes. "Mum's crying all the time. But she's better than dad. We're worried about him. He just stares into space. Looking lost. Barely recognized Perkins when he came by with some food last night, and they've been working together for years."

He sighed, pulling a chair up and letting George take over the conversation.

"We think he's in major shock. And mum's hurting too badly to help him. We all are. Ginny-Ginny's been crying almost as much as mum. Bill has Fleur, at least. Charlie's spent hours talking to Percy. And we have each other. Ginny's a bit...alone, right now. She always felt close to Ron."

Harry swallowed thickly, trying to ignore their eyes. He could feel the accusation in their stares, he knew they were thinking that he should have saved Ron.

"Percy's here?" Hermione asked.

The twins nodded. "It wasn't pretty when he pitched up. Had a huge row with him. And, of course, that set mum off. We had to give her a Calming Draught."

A thick silence filled the room after those words, a silence that seemed to forbid conversation.

"Harry," Fred said, standing up suddenly and walking forward. "Dumbledore, he says that you were there. We-we need to know. What happened?"

He looked down, staring at his feet. And after a moment or two, he began to talk.

His voice came out dead, robotic.

No-one interrupted him while he was telling the story. No-one asked any questions.

He finished the story and waited, half-expecting them to shout at him, to scream at him for not saving Ron.

A part of him wanted them to scream.

But they didn't.

When Fred spoke next, Harry could hear that his voice was choked with tears.

"Thanks for-for trying. We're sorry that you had to see that."

He looked up in shock, finally meeting their eyes.

Hermione twined her hand in his, and he didn't notice.

"I-you're not mad?"

George snorted. "Mate, we're plenty mad. But not at you. You didn't kill him. You tried to save him."

"I should have- "

"You tried, Harry. You tried. Better than Slughorn did."

His eyes blurred, and his voice came out in a strange, high-pitched screech when he began to shout.

"I messed up! If I had just summoned it, Ron would be-he'd be alive! It's my fault!"

"Harry," George said, more seriously than Harry had ever heard one of the twins speak. "You wanted him to live. It's not your fault. It's the fault of whoever poisoned him."

Beside his twin, Fred nodded his head quickly.

"Could it have been Slughorn?"

Harry shook his head, feeling dazed again, feeling exhausted and decidedly incurious. "He-it was just chance that Ron drank before him. And I was there, he couldn't have poisoned Ron's glass without me seeing."

A thought began to form, a possible idea of who the murderer could be.

But before he had the chance to dwell on it, Fred and George had seized him in a tight hug.

"Harry. Don't you fucking dare think it's your fault. It's not. And when we find out whose fault it is..."

* * *

And then he was standing in front of the open grave with Hermione at his side, the whole crowd staring at them.

The sun peeked through a crack in the clouds, its rays blinding him for an instant.

He'd been asked to say a few words, he and Hermione.

He looked out at the huge crowd. All of Gryffindor was there, the boys in their year wearing thick black armbands. He could see Luna, wearing a dress that made her look like she was going to fly away any minute. He saw Hagrid rubbing furiously at his eyes, standing next to Dumbledore and McGonagall.

He saw McLaggen, and for an instant had to fight an insane urge to burst out laughing.

' _He'll get to be Keeper now,'_ he thought, and then had to fight the urge to vomit.

Hermione squeezed his hand, and he forced himself to speak.

"Ron was my first friend," he said and fell silent. He wanted to tell them about how he had been so intimidated to enter the wizarding world, how he had half-expected his social life to be no better than at the Dursleys. How he had expected that no-one would treat him like a normal guy since he was the Boy-Who-Lived. How, by the end of his first ride in the Hogwarts Express, Ron had totally removed his fears. He wanted to tell them how Ron had once sacrificed himself to a giant chessboard, how Ron was terrified of spiders and still followed them into the Forbidden Forest. He wanted to tell them how Ron came to rescue him from the Dursleys in the middle of the night, how Ron once stood on a broken leg, standing up to someone he thought was a mass-murdering Death Eater, only to protect his friend.

He wanted to tell them a thousand things, about late-night conversations and Quidditch, about choosing subjects together. He wanted to tell them about the empty hole inside him, how the pain was so large that he couldn't even feel it.

He wanted to tell them how unfair it was, that Bill and Fleur would be getting married and that Ron wouldn't be there to celebrate. How Ron wouldn't see another sunrise or rainstorm, wouldn't listen to another crappy Weird Sisters song, wouldn't go for another fly. How he would never get to play chess again, or watch the Cannons lose the series again.

He wanted to tell them everything, but he couldn't. The blockage in his throat had come back, and it wouldn't let any words through. He couldn't speak, he could barely even think. So, he just managed to repeat himself, adding something small. "Ron was the first friend I ever made. And he was the best friend I've ever had."

He squeezed Hermione's hand, trying to tell her a hundred things. How he didn't mean to put her down, how he valued her beyond what he could even express, how he wanted, no, how he needed her friendship just to stay standing.

And he wanted to tell her to take over, that he couldn't talk in front of these people anymore.

She did, smoothly jumping into a story about Ron and Harry saving her from a troll.

Harry let the words flow over him, standing there with his head feeling like it was going to just float away.

* * *

It was only when they returned to Hogwarts that his daze broke. He walked into his bedroom and immediately saw it.

Ron's bed had been removed.

It made sense. There were only ever as many beds per room as were needed. But the wall shouldn't have been empty. Ron's bed should have been there, with its stupid Chudley Cannons sheets and its messy piles of clothes. It should have been there.

And suddenly, it was all too much. All the emotions he hadn't been feeling the last few days attacked as one, smothering his mind with the onslaught of guilt and rage and pain and fear and loss.

He saw Ron's face in his mind, turning purple. He saw Sirius, falling through the Veil. He heard his parents' voices, the memory that the Dementors had tormented him with.

And it was all too much. Far too much. Too much pain for him to think through, too much loss for him to just act rationally, to somehow get over it.

Something inside of him turned to acid and filled the hole Ron's death had left behind.

He wasn't aware of dropping his bag and drawing his wand. He only really realized he'd even done it when he screamed and threw a blasting hex against the empty wall, the wall that should have been covered by Ron's bed. He was screaming, his pain somehow exponentially greater than it had been for Sirius. He was screaming as he hexed the wall again and again and again, with tears running down his face and snot bubbling at his nose.

The pain was overwhelming, worse than being under Voldemort's Cruciatus, worse than Bellatrix's mocking taunts.

The pain was total, and he dropped his wand, falling to his knees and sobbing.

He didn't know how much time had passed before she was there, hugging him close and crying with him, her bushy hair trailing over his back.

And he knew it sounded selfish, but he said it anyway.

"Why does everyone I love have to leave me?"

Her grip tightened around him and he felt her body shaking with her cries, but when she spoke, her voice came through clearly.

"I'm not going anywhere, Harry. I'm here with you. I'm not going anywhere."

"I should have-should have been better. I could have saved him. It's my fault, just like Sirius. It's all my fault, and- "

"It. Isn't. Your. Fault"

She stared at him, looking angry. "It's not your fault, Harry. You tried. It's more Slughorn's fault than yours. He's a-a fucking Potions Master! He should have been able to save Ron!"

"But- "

Her words totally overrode his. "And more than that, it's the fault of the person who poisoned him! Probably the same person who gave Katie that cursed necklace, and now Ron's dead!"

And a bomb went off inside his head. His face twisted into an ugly snarl as realization flashed.

Like a dam breaking, all the thoughts about who could have been behind Ron's poisoning, all the thoughts that had been hiding in the very back of his mind came flying forward.

Hermione saw his expression and flinched back.

"Malfoy," he growled, his eyes seeing everything through a red veil, his hands balling themselves into fists.

And then he felt fury overtake him.


	2. What are friends for?

Chapter 2: What are friends for?

"We should forgive our enemies, but not before they are hanged."—Heinrich Heine

* * *

Hermione wasn't automatically convinced, no matter how certain Harry was.

"I'm telling you, Hermione. Please, just trust me! It's him, it's Malfoy!"

She looked at him doubtfully, one of her hands running through her hair in a nervous tic.

"I just-you need proof, Harry. You can't just- "

"He's got the Mark! I'm telling you, that's what it was in Madam Malkin's! And he's been to Borgin and Burke's, he knew about the necklace!"

"But he was in detention!" She cried, wringing her hands. "Unless you think Professor McGonagall was in on it, then- "

Cold clarity shot through him, and he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

Hermione noticed his expression change and stopped talking immediately.

"Katie. Katie was given the necklace in the bathroom of the Three Broomsticks," He said slowly.

She kept looking at him, her eyes wide, the cogs in her mind whirring away.

"And-and Slughorn was given that mead. What if he's got Rosmerta under the Imperius?"

A clear expression of shock crossed her face and she paled.

"That makes-it makes sense. But why are you so sure it's Malfoy? What do- "

"I just know it," He said flatly. "I know it, Hermione."

"Harry," she said cautiously, her hand reaching out and taking his, "I don't mean to belittle your intuition. But you've hated Malfoy for years,"

He opened his mouth to retort, and she quickly added "for good reason. But you've hated him for ages, and you're really looking for someone to blame. You're not thinking clearly."

He sagged, his shoulders suddenly feeling too heavy to keep on holding up, the rage within him merely smouldering now.

"If I can prove he's got the Mark," he whispered, "then will you believe me? Then will you question him with me?"

Her face tightened when he revealed his plans to her, her lips pursing into a thin line.

"How would you prove that?"

"Get him with a body-bind," he said with a shrug, "roll up his sleeve."

She squeezed his hand tightly, staring straight into his eyes. "I don't want to just attack someone. I need some reason in the first place. Not just your intuition. It's not enough, Harry. Not for this."

He nodded, keeping his eyes locked onto her own.

"We'll see how he acts around us," he said, internally working on a plan to get Hermione to see reason, "just see if he's acting guilty."

She stared at him for a while before nodding. "But I wish you would tell someone. Dumbledore, or- "

He snorted, finally looking away. "As if they'll listen. No-one ever has before. And we'll have all the proof we need. Just give it a few days, ok?"

Her forehead creased slightly as she tightened her grip on his hand.

"What aren't you telling me?" She whispered, "what are you really planning? Why won't you at least tell them what you think about Rosmerta?"

He avoided her eyes, focusing on his shoes instead.

In his mind, he could see Ron's open eyes, staring blankly with a slight sheen to them.

"You're not planning on turning him in, are you?"

And even though she made it sound like one, it wasn't a question.

"Oh, Harry. You-you can't- "

"Why not? If it was him, if I'm right, why can't I? Why shouldn't I?"

And she hugged him tightly, tears running down her face.

"Because you're better than that."

But the furious burning in his chest told him otherwise.

* * *

As far as Harry was concerned, Draco signed his death warrant with his actions at breakfast the next morning.

He and Hermione were sitting together, the students around them uncharacteristically silent and sombre.

He glanced at the Slytherin table, barely even noticing Hermione mirroring his movement beside him.

And he caught Draco Malfoy's eye.

Malfoy looked terrible. He was paler than usual, with huge bags under his eyes, and he had a sheen of sweat on his forehead even though it wasn't a warm morning.

The instant he saw Harry and Hermione looking his way, Draco averted his eyes, his whole head moving with jerky, skittish motions.

Harry watched, snarling under his breath, as Draco raised a clearly trembling hand to his goblet.

"You see?" He whispered to Hermione. "He's guilty. He's showing it."

Hermione swallowed, looking frightened. "I need more than that," she whispered back, both of them ignoring the strange looks their classmates were giving them. "I'm sorry, but I can't base anything off of his expressions. I just can't."

Just then the bell rang, cutting off Harry's angry retort.

Hermione rose with a relieved expression and gave him a weak, apologetic smile before leaving the Hall with her book-bag slung over her shoulder.

* * *

Throughout classes that day, Harry's mind wandered. He kept seeing the entire terrible series of events in Slughorn's office playing before him, except it was different in his imagination.

In his imagination, he could hear Malfoy laughing in the background as he ran with the Bezoar.

He found himself sitting in Transfiguration, staring into the back of Hermione's head, wishing he could somehow show her just how absolutely certain he was that Malfoy was behind it.

Wishing he could just convince her to throw aside her compunctions.

He came up with dozens of situations to get her to feel what he was feeling, each less likely than the one before it.

Then, lost in his thoughts and walking out of Transfiguration in a daze, he decided that it would take a miracle.

' _Two days,'_ he thought, ' _if she hasn't come round in two days, I'm on my own. I'll probably get caught, but I don't care.'_

* * *

That night, as Harry walked into the Common Room, he heard Hermione fighting with Lavender.

"You barely even knew him!" Hermione shrieked, her voice thick and choked, "he was one of my best friends for years! Stop making out like he was the love of your life! Stop acting like you're the only one hurt by his death! Do you know how insensitive it is?"

"Just because you were too much a bossy know-it-all to admit you liked him," Lavender shrieked back, "doesn't mean I didn't care! You were too stupid to- "

What Hermione was too stupid to do, Harry didn't hear.

Almost too fast to see, Hermione had whipped out her wand, slashing it down with a look of pure rage on her face.

A sickly yellow light lit up the tip of her wand, and Lavender flew back, smashing into the wall and sliding onto the floor in a heap.

Hermione stood there for a moment, chest heaving with her quick, shallow breaths, and looking around the Common-Room with wild, crazy eyes.

Her gaze flitted over Harry, seeming not to take his presence in.

And then she ran out of the Common Room, sobbing loudly.

Harry swore under his breath and followed her, pulling out the Marauder's Map when he lost sight of her and couldn't hear her sobbing anymore.

After a few minutes, he found her in an empty classroom.

He walked in quietly, trying not to sneeze from the dust in the room. She was sitting at one of the desks, her head in her arms, crying loudly.

He took her in his arms, hugging tightly, letting his pain overcome his rage for a moment, letting the tears flow.

"I-I was so stupid!" She sobbed, "I never-I never told him! I never told him, and now I never can! I should have-I should have- "

He just pulled her close to him, letting her cry on his shoulder.

He thought about Malfoy and barely managed to keep his hands from closing tight enough to hurt her.

"He knew how you felt," he said gently, trying to be soothing.

But it just made her howl.

"And I-I should have-not Lavender! Me! I let him-I thought- "

Her tears overcame her words, and she howled again, pushing her face into his shoulder.

It took nearly an hour for her to calm down. Nearly an hour, and by the time her agony passed, Harry's robes were all but drenched with her tears.

Eventually, though, the throe passed, and she sat there, sniffling slightly and hugging him close.

"You're right about Malfoy," she said finally, shocking him enough that he almost pulled away from her. "I think you are. But I don't want to-to kill him."

"Hermione, you don't have to- "

She pulled away then, staring at him angrily with red-rimmed eyes and flared nostrils.

"I do! If he-if he did it, if you can prove it, I won't be able to just let him go! I can't trust anyone else. Not after everything."

He shook his head. No, after everything they'd been through, after Fudge and Umbridge, they had learned that they couldn't necessarily trust the authorities.

"And I-I'm scared. Of what it will do to us. But I can't just do nothing! I keep thinking about him, and that I should have- "

She shook with her sobs again, but the torrent passed much quicker than the previous one.

She looked down for a few minutes, and Harry waited for her to talk.

He knew that he couldn't push her. Not right then. She had to decide on her own.

Finally, she looked up, and Harry saw the same pure agonized rage in her eyes that the mirror showed in his.

"We'll need an alibi," she said, and he knew that she was with him.

* * *

"Harry, Hermione," Neville asked curiously. Cautiously, but curiously. "What's going on? You wanted to speak to us?"

Luna just looked at them with her head slightly cocked to one side.

"I-we might need you guys to-to lie for us."

Luna nodded instantly as if it was the most casual thing in the world, but Neville frowned.

"Guys, what's going on?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Luna asked, her usual mistiness gone, replaced by a sadness far older than she was. "They know who killed Ron. And they're planning on dealing with him themselves."

"Dealing with- "Neville said faintly, "who-who is it? Are you- "

Harry and Hermione looked at each other for a moment. Hermione gave a tiny shake of her head, and Harry turned back to Neville.

"It's better that you don't know. But will you?"

Luna nodded, her eyes welling up.

"I-I don't- "

"Neville," Harry said, putting his hand on the other boy's shoulder. "Please. I trust you. Please."

Neville swallowed thickly, looking at him for a while before balling his hands into fists and nodding.

"You have your DA coins?" Hermione asked.

"Of course," Luna replied, looking insulted by the very question. Neville just nodded again.

"We'll tell you on the coin when it's time. And when we tell you, you guys need to go down to the area behind the Quidditch pitch. The place that's all swampy. Hardly anyone ever goes there, even when the weather's good."

"And when they ask," Neville said, breathing deeply, "what were we doing?"

"Just talking. Trying to figure out how to help Ginny, when she comes back. Talking about Ron."

Their friends nodded, staring at them. Luna looked away for a moment and rubbed at her eyes.

"You guys," Harry said, speaking through a blockage in his throat.

"You guys are probably the only living people I can trust. I love you both."

Hermione nodded alongside him, chewing on her lip and gripping his hand tightly.

* * *

Their chance only came two days later, on Friday afternoon.

It was a beautiful day outside, and most of the students were either sequestered in the library or taking advantage of the sunshine and walking along the lake's edge or playing small Quidditch games.

Harry and Hermione however, were sitting in the Common Room with the Marauder's Map open in front of their homework.

And finally, they saw it.

The last two days, Malfoy had barely left his Common Room except for classes and meals, and the few times that he had, he'd been accompanied by at least Crabbe and Goyle, and he hadn't been going into the castle's emptier areas.

Crabbe and Goyle may have been terrible wizards, but the chances of one of them getting away and calling for help were just too high. The chances of one of them seeing who attacked them and telling anyone were too high.

But this time, he had left the Slytherin Common Room, and he was only with Crabbe.

It would still be a risk. But they had decided that they could definitely take on two. Three might be too much. Two would be manageable.

Harry ran his tongue along his dry lips, staring at the Map with wide eyes.

"Hermione," He croaked, "look!"

She followed his trembling finger and nodded shakily.

"Let's go then. Looks like he's heading for the Room of Requirement again. You've got the cloak?"

He nodded.

"Let me just tell Neville and Luna."

And a minute later, they were leaving the Common Room, safely invisible.

He tried not to think about how much easier it was to fit under his dad's old cloak with only two of them.

Tried not to think about how Ron was the first person who saw the cloak after him.

They arrived at the entrance to the Room just in time. As they stopped walking and began to wait, Malfoy turned the corner, walking with a first-year girl who held a set of scales.

At first, Harry thought the Map was somehow in error.

But Hermione raised her wand next to him, the very tip of it pointing out of the Invisibility Cloak, and snarled "Polyjuice."

As Crabbe took a position by the tapestry of Barnabas the Balmy with his faked appearance, Malfoy began pacing in front of the wall.

And in his mind, Harry saw Ron's face changing colour as his hands scratched at his throat.

His wand rose.

"Petrificus Totalus!" He cried out, not bothering to keep his voice down.

As Malfoy fell onto his back, his body going stiff as a board, Crabbe gave a high-pitched scream and ran, dropping his set of scales with a clatter.

Hermione acted before Harry could. She didn't even say the incantation, but before Crabbe could get halfway down the corridor he was hit in the back by a Stunning Spell and fell forward, landing on his face with a thud.

But Harry didn't see that. He had eyes only for Malfoy's still form as he walked forward, ripping the Cloak off of them with a growl.

They reached Malfoy and stood there for a second, staring into his wide, frightened eyes.

Then Harry bent down and rolled up Malfoy's left sleeve.

Hermione gasped, but he just stared grimly into the Dark Mark.

"Hermione," He said, not taking his eyes off of the grinning skull and serpent, "Obliviate Crabbe. Then send him off to his room."

She nodded and walked off, while he stood up and began pacing.

' _I need a place where no-one can find us. I need a place where no-one can find us. I need a place where no-one can find us.'_

Hermione walked back just as he was levitating Malfoy into the room.

The Room itself would have been enough to take his breath away, had he not been so focused on what he was about to do.

There were towering piles of all sorts of things there, from ripped clothes to broken wands, potion vials to weapons. They walked through the corridors made out of columns of rubbish, neither of them speaking until they arrived in a clearing.

"Hermione?"

"I'm on it."

Her wand flashed, and a minute later a metal chair sat before them.

Her wand flashed again as he removed the body-bind, and then Malfoy was sitting, tied to the chair by sturdy ropes that ran around his arms, legs, and chest.

"Please, P-Potter! Please!"

Malfoy began to blubber, tears spilling out over his eyes.

Harry raised his wand.

"PLEASE!"

"Was it you?" He asked quietly.

Hermione took his left hand and squeezed.

Malfoy just shook his head, beginning to sob as he begged.

"Potter, I don't-please! Granger! Please, don't do this-don't- "

"Was it you?"

"DON'T!"

' _You have to mean them, Potter!'_

Harry looked at the Mark on Malfoy's arm and realized he had never hated someone as much as he hated Draco Malfoy.

He realized that he had never wanted anyone to suffer as much as he wanted Draco Malfoy to suffer.

"Crucio!"

Hermione jerked her hand when Malfoy began to scream and shake with such force that he knocked his chair over.

For a moment, Harry thought about ending the curse.

Then he remembered how Ron had looked.

And a cold smile spread across his face, as Malfoy screamed.

After a minute or so, he lowered his wand, ending the curse.

Malfoy's screams still echoed around the Room, and he distinctly heard a few bats calling back.

He picked up Malfoy's chair, setting it straight.

Malfoy just sat there with his chin on his chest, his hair draped over his face, his body shaking with the force of his sobs.

"WAS IT YOU?" He roared, and Malfoy still didn't look up.

He raised his wand, preparing to cast something, something to break the blonde out of his stupor, when, in a choked voice, Malfoy spoke.

"Yes."

And everything stopped.

Malfoy's answer shot through Harry's mind, echoing through all the dark corners, filling him with rage beyond what he thought possible.

He began to move his wand, dimly noticing the pattern he was creating, barely cognizant of the two words forming on his lips and the green motes on the end of his wand, when Hermione gripped his arm.

"Why?" She asked, staring straight at Malfoy, shaking with rage.

"I didn't want to! I swear I didn't want to!" His voice rose in pitch as he spoke until he sounded like Crabbe's girl-body had.

"Why?" Hermione repeated, poking him with her wand. "Why did you do it? Why? Why? Answer me! Why? WHY, YOU INBRED, SPOILED FUCK! WHY?"

"I had to! I had to or He would kill me! I wasn't trying to kill Weasley, I swear, but He-He'll kill my parents! He'll kill my parents and then He'll kill me! I didn't want this!"

"Voldemort wanted you to kill Ron," Harry said flatly. "Nice try. Should have gone with the Imperius. Isn't that how daddy got out, the first time?"

But Draco shook his head frantically, crying in between speaking.

"I-He-I have to kill Dumbledore! I have to do it!"

"The wine was for Dumbledore? And the necklace?"

"Y-Yes! Please, I didn't want- "

"Shut the fuck up. You wanted it. You've wanted it for years. You wanted to work for him!"

"I thought," Malfoy said, lowering his head again, "I thought I did. But I-I didn't realize anything, I didn't understand-"

"What have you been doing in the Room of Requirement?" Hermione asked, squeezing Harry's hand when his wand rose again.

He lowered it, not wanting to hear Draco's answer, wanting nothing but to kill, to kill and hurt and destroy this bastard who had killed Ron.

But needing to hear it. Needing to know and hear everything.

"I-there's a Vanishing Cabinet here, it's-it's linked to the one in Borgin and Burke's. I'm repairing it!"

"Who's helping you?"

When Draco hesitated, Harry pushed his wand into the boy's chest hard and repeated the question.

"Who. Is. Helping. You?"

Draco closed his eyes, a few tears escaping as his lids came down.

"Crabbe and Goyle," he whispered, "they don't know what I'm doing, but they're-they're looking out for me. And Rosmerta. She's under the-the Imperius."

Draco stopped talking there, but a conversation Harry had overheard at Slughorn's party came back to him.

"And Snape?"

Draco just looked at him, biting his lip.

"What about Snape?"

"I can't-I- "

"TELL ME THE FUCKING TRUTH! CRUCIO!"

After a minute of agonized screams, Hermione grabbed his arm.

"Stop it!" she hissed.

Reluctantly, he did.

"TELL ME THE TRUTH!" He roared, and after a minute, Malfoy began to talk again, snot bubbling up from his nostrils as he did.

"Sn-Snape's been trying to h-help me. My mother made him take an Unbreakable Vow. But if he helps, then the-the Dark Lord might say it doesn't count, and might-might kill us anyways"

When Hermione spoke, she sounded as shocked as Harry felt.

"Snape knew from the beginning of the year? He knew it was you with the necklace? He knew it was you with the-the wine?"

Draco looked down again, his lips moving soundlessly.

As Harry raised his wand again, he finally spoke.

"Yes. He's been on our-he's been a Death Eater all along. He's just been tricking Dumbledore."

Harry reeled back, the Room suddenly spinning around him. He almost fell over, only managing to stick out an arm at the last minute and balance himself against a giant chipped statue.

Snape. Snape, who'd always hated and picked on him. Snape, who Dumbledore was so sure was on their side. Snape, who hadn't done everything he could have to save Sirius.

Snape had known and had let Ron die.

He began to march toward the Room's entrance, gripping his wand so tightly that the wood creaked and sparks shot out of the end.

He was aware of nothing, nothing other than the images of Ron's death that played before his eyes, and the four words that rang clearly through his mind like a bell, repeating themselves over and over and over again.

' _It's all Snape's fault.'_

Suddenly, he felt something smash into his face.

He blinked, shaking his head, and saw Hermione standing before him and rubbing her hand.

"You can't," she said desperately, bright patches of colour glistening under the tears on her cheeks, "you can't just attack Snape. He'll kill you in a second. You can't, Harry!"

He just stood there, as the Room slowly came back into focus, trying to process what she had said.

"You can't! You have to-you have to tell Dumbledore! We have to!"

"TELL DUMBLEDORE?!" He roared, making her flinch. "TELL DUMBLEDORE? HE'LL NEVER LISTEN! HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD HIM THINGS THAT HE JUST IGNORED? I-I-I TOLD HIM ABOUT THIS," he waved his hand backwards, pointing to Malfoy, "I TOLD HIM ABOUT THIS FUCKER, AND HE LISTENED TO SNAPE OVER ME! HE TRUSTS HIM! HE DOESN'T TRUST ME! HE THINKS I JUST HAVE A GRUDGE AGAINST HIM!"

She took his hand, squeezing it again, staring into his eyes.

"Then it's up to us," she said with a sigh. "Like always. But we have to plan. Snape-He's dangerous, Harry. We'll have to have it planned out perfectly if we want there to be even a chance of it working."

Slowly, he nodded, something about what she was saying making sense to him.

"You can take me to Dumbledore," Malfoy said suddenly. "I'll-I'll testify. If he'll keep me and my family safe, I'll testify against Snape. I swear."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other for a moment, and then both of them turned to face Malfoy, raising their wands as one.

Malfoy's eyes widened even further, and his gaze began to dart between them.

"Please," He whispered, a dark spot spreading around his crotch. "Please, I didn't want to-I'm sorry-I- "

"You can tell that to Ron if you see him," Harry said, focusing his wand on the shaking boy.

"PLEASE! HE WOULD HAVE KILLED ME!"

Hermione gave a wry chuckle before speaking, and after a moment, Harry recognized her words and laughed as well.

"You should have realized," she said, speaking softly, "if Voldemort didn't kill you, we would."

And it hurt, it hurt for him to remember how stupid and naive he had been when he had stopped Lupin and Sirius from killing Pettigrew because he could understand them, because he finally felt exactly like they did.

And right then, there was no stupid teenager there, to jump in front of his wand and babble about morals and what the dead would have wanted.

"Together?" He asked, baring his teeth.

She nodded.

Malfoy began to scream as their wands moved like one and they shouted the same two words together.

The piles of hidden contraband were lit up with an eerie green light, and Draco Malfoy lived no more.


	3. Secrets

Chapter 3: Secrets

"Secrets, silent, stony sit in the dark palaces of both our hearts: secrets weary of their tyranny: tyrants willing to be dethroned."—James Joyce-Ulysses

"Friends and lovers lie endlessly, caught in the web of regard."—Stephen King-The Gunslinger

* * *

"We need to- "

"We need to act, Hermione!" he interjected sharply, slamming his open palm on the desk and pausing his pacing. "If we leave it too long, there's going to be all sorts of questions about Malfoy."

"It's been one day! We can wait for another few-"

"We can't. We can't. If we do- "

"We'll be better prepared. Harry, it's Snape! We're not talking about Draco idiot Malfoy here. We're talking about a good enough Occlumens to fool Dumbledore, and someone who we know is a talented wizard. We can't possibly hope to just sneak up on him!"

"The plan- "

She waved a hand frantically, standing up herself and beginning to pace.

"The plan will only work once we've got him tied down! We still don't know how we're doing that in the first place!"

"I told you, we get someone to talk to him and distract him!"

She stopped her pacing and turned to him, placing her hands on her hips.

"And who do you propose we get? I told you, I don't think Neville or Luna would work, and I told you I'm not comfortable with using a random student. So, who, Harry? Who?"

He looked at her with a sigh.

"Are you getting cold feet?"

Her face flushed a bright, angry red and her hand twitched as if to draw her wand.

When she spoke, it was in a cold, furious voice that he had never heard from her before.

"You listen to me, and you listen now. Cold feet? I want to see Snape scream! I want to see him dead! I want to know why and to find out if Malfoy was right. And if he wasn't, I want to know why Dumbledore thought any of this was a good idea."

"Dumbledore- "

She waved her hand again, cutting him off and continuing her angry speech.

"Yes, Dumbledore. It could be, that Snape actually is a spy and that he was helping Malfoy on Dumbledore's orders, and-"

"You can't actually think that?" he asked, half incredulous, half enraged.

"Don't you interrupt me! I said it could be! Do I think it is? No, but it is possible!"

He just shook his head mutely.

"Harry," she said, taking his hand, "I promise you; I want to see Snape dead like nothing I've ever wanted before. I dreamt about Malfoy last night, and I was laughing. Laughing! I want to see them all pay. But I don't want to fail. If we screw up, he'll kill us both."

He dropped into a chair, feeling more exhausted than he could ever remember being before.

"So, we're back to square one," he said, slumping onto the table.

"No! We know what we need, the problem is getting it! You're right, we need someone to distract him. But it needs to be someone who won't fall apart as Neville would. And someone who it wouldn't hurt too badly like it would Luna. And it needs to be someone we can trust."

He dropped his head onto the desk with a thud, knowing that she was right and detesting it.

And then it came to him, with a clarity and certainty that made him sit bolt-upright and wonder why he hadn't thought about it before.

"What is it?" She asked, biting her lip and staring at the excitement spreading across his face.

He just smirked, cleared his throat, and called out: "Dobby!"

Almost immediately, the loud crack of apparition split the air, and Dobby the house-elf appeared before them.

His long, pointy ears drooped, and his tennis-ball eyes welled with tears as he looked at them.

"Harry Potter, sir, Dobby is sorry, I was not wanting to intrude on Harry Potter's grief for his Weezy, but Dobby should have helped, should have helped Harry Potter..."

Dobby began to cry, tugging at his ears as his old self-flagellating habit took hold.

Harry caught Hermione's eye, just for a moment before he started to speak.

She looked at him with incredible sadness and gave a nod that somehow conveyed reluctant agreement.

"Dobby," he said cautiously, his words immediately causing the elf's wailing to stop. "I think there's something you could help me with."

"Anything! Anything for Harry Potter!"

He chose his words carefully, thinking through the consequences.

"Dobby, I need to know. How strong is your allegiance to the teachers here? How compelled are you to protect them?"

The elf looked up at him, wariness spreading across his face.

"What is Harry Potter asking?" he whispered.

"If, and this is purely an if, I was going to knock out a teacher here, would you be compelled to stop me?"

Slowly, gripping his ears tightly, Dobby shook his head.

"Master Harry, you is-you is scaring Dobby."

"I promise, I swear, it's for a good reason."

"Why doesn't Master Harry tell Professor Dumbledore?"

Harry bent down until he was at eye level with the elf.

"I need proof before I can go to the headmaster. I need to get proof."

"Master Harry Potter, you is-you is smelling like Dobby's old masters," the elf whispered, his eyes filling with tears again. "You and Mistress Granger. You is smelling like-like hatred, and anger, and Dark Magic."

Hermione reached over and clasped Harry's shoulder, before bending down and beginning to talk herself.

"Dobby," she said kindly, talking to him the same gentle way she had always spoken to house-elves. "One of the Professors here may have helped kill Ron. We need to get proof before we can go to Dumbledore. We need to knock him out and question him. Can you help us?"

Dobby's legs shook at this, his whole body trembling as if he was going to fall over.

"One of the Professors was helping to kill your Weezy?" He squeaked, his eyes darting from Harry to Hermione.

Harry nodded. "So, can you help us?"

"Dobby is-is having more lees way than the other elves. Professor Dumbledore is most insistent that Dobby is an employee. But even Dobby can't attack a teacher."

"Could you distract him? Just talk to him about something, keep him looking in the opposite direction?"

Dobby tugged his ears hard and nodded.

"Great. So, here's the plan..."

* * *

They paused outside of Snape's office, Dobby stopping just a step away from the door.

"You're sure that you can manage it?"

Hermione snorted, not deigning to respond to Harry before she pulled out her wand and tapped it on her own head, muttering under her breath as she did so.

It was one of the strangest things Harry had ever seen, watching the disillusionment charm take hold of Hermione.

Slowly, her appearance changed to match that of the wall behind her, until, after fifteen seconds or so, she was indistinguishable from it.

"Damn," he said, pulling out his cloak and throwing it over himself, "that's really impressive."

"Hush," she said, and from the sound of it, she was blushing. "Dobby, let's go."

Dobby seemed to gather strength to himself, swallowing hard and balling his little hands into fists before he knocked on Snape's office door.

After a moment, from within the room, they heard Snape's oily voice.

"Enter."

At the sound, Harry came within an inch of throwing the plan aside. When he heard Snape, he was filled with a sudden murderous desire, wanting nothing more than to burst into the room with his wand out, casting whatever he could.

Somehow, he managed to stay in control.

He followed Dobby in, getting into the office just before the door closed behind him.

"Professor Snape, sir!" Dobby said, giving a small salute, "Dobby wanted to ask the Professor about the cauldrons."

Harry looked over at the man just in time to see him rolling his eyes and sneering.

"What about them?"

Dobby slowly inched his way forward, circling through the room, forcing Snape to half-turn.

"It is being Dobby's chance to clean the dungeons, and the other elves is saying that Dobby must speak to the Professor about how he is liking them cleaned."

Harry couldn't see Snape's face right then, but he could see how the former Potions-Master's shoulders stiffened, how his hand crept toward his robe pocket.

"Slughorn is the Potions Professor now," he said slowly, suspicion filling his words with acid, "what are you- "

Harry couldn't leave it any longer. He took aim, and as quietly as he could, whispered: "Stupefy!"

But something tipped Snape off.

He spun around, greasy hair flying, his wand flashing.

The red jet of the Stunning Spell impacted against nothing, splashing against an invisible shield and throwing up sparks.

But, as Snape slashed his wand and made the Invisibility Cloak fly off of Harry, Hermione took action.

Her Stunner hit Snape in the back, and with absolutely no fanfare he fell forward, knocking his head against his desk on the way to the floor.

Adrenalin pounded its way through Harry's veins, setting his blood aflame.

He stood there, looking down on Snape's crumpled form, not noticing Hermione slowly appearing again, not noticing Dobby moaning and punching himself in the face.

"Merlin, Hermione," he said, speaking reverently, "you were more than right."

She snorted, as she walked over to him. "One day you'll realize. I always am."

"Yeah," he finally looked up, meeting her eyes and saw his rage and bloodlust reflected back at him.

"Yeah," he repeated. "You are. Can you tie him up?"

She snorted again and began twirling her wand, pushing Snape into the air and onto a chair.

"Dobby," Harry called, turning to the elf. "Thank you. Thank you so much. But I think it's time for you to go now."

Dobby's lip trembled as he nodded, not taking his eyes off of Harry.

"Harry Potter, sir. You is not going to-to kill him, is you?"

"No, Dobby. I promise we won't."

Slowly, Dobby nodded again, before disappearing with a crack.

When Harry turned around again, Snape was trussed up as Malfoy had been.

Hermione held his wand along with her own, aiming them both at the sallow face with a noticeable tremor in her hand and a snarl splitting her lips.

"You got it?"

She sighed. "Thanks. Accio Veritaserum!"

The small vial flew out of Snape's chest of drawers, the clear liquid within sloshing around as she caught it.

"Remember, Harry. We need to make sure he's not able to concentrate before you give it to him, otherwise- "

"I know, I know," he interrupted quickly, not willing to allow her nerves to take over and her lecture to begin. "Otherwise his Occlumency will prevent any of it working. I know. Let's do it. For Ron."

She let out a small growl, as her hand tightened on her wand.

"For Ron. Rennervate!"

There was no moment of confusion. Snape blinked as he woke up, and seemed to take in the scene before him in with a glance.

"Potter," he snarled, "Granger. Unhand me at once. You miserable little- "

Harry didn't pay attention to the beginnings of his rant. He simply raised his wand, taking pleasure in the way Snape's eyes widened, and incanted.

"Crucio!"

He had to admit, it was disappointing how Snape didn't scream. He writhed, his head jerking from side to side, but he didn't scream.

' _Not yet,'_ Harry thought darkly, ' _But he will. I swear, he'll scream.'_

He ended the curse, and again, Snape seemed to recover instantly.

"How dare you-what do you think- "

But Hermione had raised her wand, and she slashed it down angrily, shouting out: "Confundo!"

Immediately, Snape went limp, his eyes glazing over slightly as she hurriedly spoke.

"You're not going to fight the Imperius or the Veritaserum. You're not going to use your Occlumency training. You're going to answer our questions truthfully."

The second she had finished, Harry raised his wand again.

"Imperio!"

If seeing Hermione fade into invisibility was one of the strangest things Harry had ever seen, casting the Imperius was easily the strangest thing he'd ever felt.

He felt a ball of awareness appear in the back of his mind, a ball of thoughts and feelings, of sight and sounds and smells and tastes.

He could feel it trying to fight, could feel Snape battling against the Confundus Charm, and he knew instinctively that he had to put some form of pressure on it, or Snape would break free of his control.

And somehow, in a way that he would never be able to explain with words, he did.

"Drink the Veritaserum," he said, simultaneously forcing the awareness in his mind to obey, "and don't fight it. Tell us the truth."

Glassy-eyed, Snape reached out and took the vial from Hermione, draining it in one gulp.

Somehow, Snape was trying to fight. But he could feel that the man was weakened, unable to marshal his defences properly.

He waited a moment until he sensed the battle in his mind receding, and then asked.

"Did you know that Malfoy was trying to kill Dumbledore?"

He felt panic rising, felt Snape trying to fight again.

Ruthlessly, mercilessly, he crushed the attempt.

Face blank, Snape answered, his voice utterly devoid of inflection.

"Yes."

He heard Hermione give a small gasp, but he couldn't tear his attention away from the man before him.

"You knew," he asked, voice shaking with rage, "that Malfoy was behind the necklace? That he was behind the wine?"

"Yes."

"And-and you tried to help him?"

"Yes. But he rejected all of my offers."

His knuckles turned white on his wand; his grip so tight that his wrist felt it would break.

"Why? Why? Why didn't you stop him?"

"Because I took the Unbreakable Vow to assist him, and to kill Dumbledore if he proves unable to do so,"

Harry turned to Hermione, about to ask her for them to just kill him when Snape continued speaking.

"And because Dumbledore ordered me to do so."

And everything shook. The word itself seemed to tilt on its axis, and Harry just stood there, swaying gently, Snape's words echoing through his mind.

' _Dumbledore ordered me to do so.'_

He stared, slack-jawed, half expecting the words to suddenly make sense.

But they remained incomprehensible.

' _Dumbledore-Dumbledore knew-Dumbledore could have stopped this.'_

He heard Hermione's voice, sounding shocked and somehow small.

"Why would he order you to help kill him?"

Snape turned his head toward her, his face still blank and devoid of emotion.

"Dumbledore is dying," he said flatly. "He put on a cursed ring, and I was too late to stop the curse's spread, only barely able to contain it. Within one more year, he will be dead. He wants his death to accomplish something. He does not believe that Draco will be capable of killing him. He thinks that he will convince Draco and the Malfoys to seek sanctuary with the Order, thereby giving us information. With Draco unable to kill him, I will step in and do it. It will cement the Dark Lord's belief that I serve him, and will raise my standing with the Death Eaters, placing me above suspicion. I will be able to provide far more valuable information than I currently can."

Harry sat down sharply, exhaling with a huff as he landed in the chair.

"Hogwarts will not remain free once Dumbledore is dead. But if I am the Dark Lord's most favoured, he will grant me the position of headmaster, and I will be able to protect the students from the wrath of the Death Eaters who will doubtless be stationed here."

Harry couldn't think, couldn't focus on anything other than the fact that Dumbledore was dying. Was dying, and hadn't told him. Hadn't trusted him enough for that.

And all the times he'd complained about Malfoy, Dumbledore had known that the twat was a Death Eater.

"Unfortunately," Snape continued, still sounding as if he was saying nothing more momentous than a comment about the weather, even though the awareness in Harry's head betrayed his true horror. "My true allegiance must remain secret. For anyone, even trusted members of the Order to know, would increase the chance of the Dark Lord discovering it. I will be hated and reviled, but it must be done."

Harry still couldn't think, not enough to ask the questions he knew he should.

Luckily, Hermione could.

"Why didn't Dumbledore act against Malfoy?"

It took Snape a second to answer, a second in which he again tried in vain to fight the Imperius and the Veritaserum.

"I had to take the Unbreakable Vow. To protect Draco to the best of my abilities. The only way for Dumbledore to act against him without killing me would have been without my knowledge. But my importance to the Dark Lord lies in the fact that he believes that Dumbledore tells me everything, that Dumbledore trusts me implicitly. If Dumbledore proves capable of acting against a student of my house without my knowledge, the Dark Lord would no longer trust me. If the Dark Lord no longer would trust me, we would have no more information on his plans. Also, Dumbledore still hopes to convince the Malfoys to switch sides."

Harry snorted.

"Why," he finally asked, managing somehow to speak through the torrent of thought and emotions that threatened to engulf him, "have you always been such a fucking cunt? Why have you always hated me so much? Why do you hate everyone? Why does Dumbledore trust you?"

He had stood up at some point and started shouting his questions, as a red rage coated his vision.

"WHY DOES HE TRUST YOU? YOU WERE A DEATH EATER! WHY DID YOU EVEN SWITCH SIDES?"

Snape's mind burst into a panic, fighting against Harry with such strength that he collapsed into the chair again.

He pulled up strength of will that he didn't even know he had, and again, crushed Snape's mind into submission.

But he realized that something about what he had asked Snape scared the man more than anything else.

And he realized that he absolutely needed to know, that it was a need that transcended even his desire for revenge. That something within him, some unknowable instinct, pushed at him to find out.

"Why," he repeated quietly, "did you switch sides?"

Slowly, Snape raised his head, staring straight into Harry's eyes.

"Because the Dark Lord was going to kill Lily Evans"

"You-you hated her," he whispered, the memory he had seen in Snape's Pensieve playing in the back of his mind.

But Snape shook his head violently, and his dark eyes filled with tears, even through the Imperius and Veritaserum.

Even so, when he spoke, his voice was still emotionless and blank.

"All my life, I have felt nothing but hatred and the need to feel powerful. The need to feel powerful by hurting others. But when I was with Lily Evans, I felt happy. The only times in my life I ever felt happy were when I was with her."

"No," Harry said as if his denial could somehow pull the words out of the air. As if his denial could possibly contradict the Veritaserum. "No, you hated her. Mudblood, you called her."

"I knew Lily from when we were children growing up in the same area. Even when we reached Hogwarts, and she went to Gryffindor, and I, Slytherin, we somehow managed to retain our friendship. But the Dark Lord's rise affected Hogwarts. Simply in order to survive in Slytherin, one had to talk in such ways. And after using certain words for long enough, you come to believe them. And the Dark Lord promised me a way to show my hatred, a way to be powerful. I cared not for his feigned pureblood ideology, just as he did not either. But for a way to make others feel as terrible as I did, that was a path I was prepared to walk."

"So, you abandoned her," Hermione said scathingly, her one hand reaching out to grip Harry's. "Abandoned her to join the Death Eaters."

"She was the only thing holding me back. She was the last thing of beauty that I saw in the world. Everything else could burn to ash, for all I cared. And while we were friends, she kept my resolve strong. But I insulted her. And I ruined anything we could have had. And she fell into my nemesis' waiting arms."

Harry shook his head, tears beginning to streak down his face.

"And it was too late. And I felt worse than I had even until that point. So, I joined. I joined, and I tortured, and I killed, and I poured my hatred onto those who had angered my master."

"And when you found out that he was going after my parents?" Harry whispered.

Snape's awareness suddenly exploded, mindless fear and panic breaking the Imperius.

Harry acted instinctively, the torrent of emotions within him leaping out and finding a target to earth themselves.

"CRUCIO!"

This time, Snape screamed.

But it wasn't as satisfying as Harry had thought it would be.

He kept the curse going for over a moment, listening to the agonizing screams being bellowed out before him.

Immediately after he ended it, he cast the Imperius again.

"You were saying how you found out that he was going after my parents?" Harry said, standing up again, his wand shaking.

Hermione squeezed his hand, but he couldn't look at her. He couldn't look away from the man before him.

"The Dark Lord wanted to place a Death Eater as a Hogwarts Professor. I was sent to apply, even though Dumbledore probably knew that I was a Death Eater. And I overheard him interviewing a candidate for the post of the Divination Professor, and I listened in, and I heard..."

Harry's mind blanked. Everything seemed to dim around him, as the world shook, as his whole body trembled and his legs almost toppled him to the floor. He felt Hermione holding him up, heard her saying something to him, heard Snape in the background.

' _He was the spy. He gave Voldemort the prophecy. It's all his fault. He was the spy. He gave Voldemort the prophecy. It's all his fault.'_

He stood there with Hermione's arms around him, swaying back and forth, listening to the voice in his head.

"And he killed them. He killed her. The last thing of beauty in this world, gone. And I was left with nothing but my boundless hatred and self-loathing, my pointless rage and meaningless pain. And it was all my fault. And I swore to Dumbledore to do whatever I could to fight the monster who had ended everything, who had brought my last chance of happiness crashing down. I swore to Dumbledore to protect her son, even though he was as much Potter's spawn as he was of her flesh. And I- "

Harry couldn't think past the pure furious pain that engulfed him, that totally consumed his entire mind.

He didn't notice, when Snape broke free of the Imperius, he was so full of agony.

All the terrible years at the Dursleys. All the times when he wished he could have had a father to talk to, a mother to hug and say how much she loved him.

All the times he'd felt lonely and scared, and no-one had come to comfort him.

All the horrific pain of learning how his parents had died.

All of it could be laid at Snape's feet.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Hermione managed to push his arm to the side at the last second, and his curse splashed against the wall, green fire licking at the stones for a moment before dissipating.

"Harry, no! We need him! He- "

"AVADA- "

She slapped him, hard enough to move him sideways, hard enough that his head rang.

But his rage and pain hurt far worse than a slap to the face, so he pushed his arm out, knocking her back, and raised his wand a third time.

"AVADA- "

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

His wand flew out of his hand, landing next to Snape's in her left hand.

She held her own out in her right, and it shook violently.

"Harry-Harry-don't. You-you can't- "

"HE KILLED MY PARENTS! IT'S ALL HIS FAULT!"

"I know! I know, but you can't. If-If Dumbledore's dying, we'll-we'll need him- "

"I DON'T FUCKING CARE!"

"Harry, please-please, breathe. You need to calm down, you-we can't kill him. We need him."

He turned away from her, wand forgotten, and dived forward, landing on Snape, knocking the chair to the ground.

He began to punch, screaming out half-formed curses and insults, knowing nothing other than the pure need to destroy the man who had brought such ruin to his life.

Blood splattered from Snape's nose, Hermione screamed something, and Harry punched again.

He punched, again and again, and again.

He heard Snape trying to say something, heard Hermione shouting, but none of it registered, not enough to stop the furious need.

His fingers tangled themselves in the disgusting greasy hair, and he pulled Snape's head up, preparing to smash it on the stone below.

Hermione shouted, and the room lit up yellow.

He flew off of Snape, knocking into the wall and coming to rest on the floor.

"Harry," Hermione said shakily, "pl-please. Stop. Just-just sit down for a few minutes. Think it through. Think about what will happen if you kill him. Please."

"He killed my parents. I'm going to- "

"Killing him won't bring them back. But it will make things a lot worse in the long run. We need him. We need someone inside the Death Eaters."

Slowly, Harry got to his feet.

Hermione stood next to the toppled chair.

Wisely, Snape wasn't saying anything.

"Harry. I love you. But we need him. If you don't sit down, right now, I'm going to stun you"

For a second, he thought about rushing her. About knocking her to the floor and stealing his wand back and ripping Snape to shreds.

For a second, and then it passed.

He closed his eyes, sinking into the chair again.

Slowly, the furious, all-powerful rage drained away, leaving an exhausted pit of hatred and pain behind.

He kept his eyes closed, as he breathed deeply, trying to think through the consequences of murdering Snape, as he dimly heard Hermione casting healing charms and lifting the chair back up.

After a while, he came to a decision.

"Fine," he said, opening his eyes and wiping away the tears. "I'll let him live. I'll let the murdering coward live. But-but I fucking want answers. Dumbledore, he-he didn't tell me anything. Not that he's dying, none of that. I want to know the truth. I want the fucking truth for once."

Hermione nodded at him shakily, her own face all splotchy and pink.

"We'll tell him- "

"No. He'll never tell us anything, not if he's in a position of power. We need him disarmed. Vulnerable. Like this piece of shit."

He barely glanced at Snape, knowing that if he had to look at the man then he would try to kill again, he would rip Snape's head off of his shoulders with his bare arms.

"But-how? We'd need-we'd need a distraction, one far better than Dobby, and- "

He bared his teeth in a horrific grin.

"Oh, I think I've got one. Remember what he wanted me to do?"

Understanding crossed her face in an instant.

"Right now. We go, sort that out, and go to him. He'll be so busy with the memory, he won't notice."

She nodded, chewing on her lip.

"What about Snape?"

Harry turned to face the man.

Snape looked back at him, paler than usual, his nose clearly broken, a black eye forming, his lip split, but otherwise showing not a hint of fear or worry.

"When Dumbledore dies," he said, holding his fists behind his back, feeling his nails bite crescents into his palms. "You'll give us information. And you'll help us. You'll help us fight."

"You are aware that I am going to continue being a spy?"

Harry nodded curtly.

"Then yes. As if I have any choice."

"Just be glad I'm not killing you."

"Glad?" Snape asked, sounding wryly amused. "It would be the perfect irony to finish this farce that has been my life."

"We stun him," Harry said, ignoring Snape and looking at Hermione. "Let him wake up on his own. That way he can't warn Dumbledore that we're coming."

He turned back to Snape.

"I-I absolutely detest you. And if you ever turn on us, I swear, I'll find the most painful way to kill someone and use it on you. I swear it on my mother's grave."

Snape just looked at him blankly. But when he spoke, there was more pain in his voice than Harry knew was possible.

"You may think that you hate me. But I assure you, you cannot possibly hate me half as much as I loathe myself every instant of every day."

Harry stood straight, feeling the blood run down his hands.

He nodded to Hermione, and watched, as for the second time in the same evening, Snape was hit with a Stunner.

* * *

Horace Slughorn had just finished marking the Ravenclaw fifth-years' homework and had stood up and begun walking to the door when it burst open.

Immediately, he drew his wand.

But as he started casting, it flew out of his hand.

Harry Potter and Hermione Granger walked out of the dark corridor and into his office, closing the door behind them.

He barely noticed how terrible Miss Granger was looking, how her red-rimmed eyes and drawn face made her look like a victim of some severe crime, as she began casting silencing and privacy charms.

He couldn't focus on her, not when Harry Potter stood before him with a drawn wand, looking absolutely possessed. Some of the boy's hair was standing straight, and his face was streaked with tear trails and blood splatters, but it was his eyes that stole Slughorn's attention.

Of course, everybody knew that Harry had his mother's eyes. But Horace would have been willing to bet everything he owned, that no-one had ever seen Lily's eyes looking like this.

So red, like a blood vessel had been popped. So angry. So pained. And lit up with a mad, furious light.

"Done," Miss Granger said, and Harry's wand poked into Horace's chest.

"Give us the memory," Harry said, his voice coming out in a terrible rasp that grated against Horace's ears. "Give us the fucking memory."

But he couldn't, he couldn't give away that memory, he couldn't let anyone know how stupid he had been, how much he had contributed to Tom's evil.

"Harry-I- "

Harry's wand pressed in harder and he squealed.

"Give us the fucking memory. You fucking useless excuse for a Potions Master. I should kill you right now. Give us the memory and we'll let you live."

He tried to smile, tried to turn it into some form of a joke, hoping that if he just ignored it, he would wake up and this would all have been a terrible dream.

And then he heard what Harry said next.

"Crucio!"

Pain. Utter pain filled his every cell, his every nerve ending screamed, and he realized he was on the floor, he realized he was rolling around, he realized that his bladder had released its contents, but it didn't matter because the pain was too much, he was going to die, he was going to lose his mind, he was going to scream until his throat burst, he was-

As suddenly as it had started, the pain ended. He lay on the floor, his cheek pressed up against the cold stone, a warm puddle spreading around his legs.

His body still shook with the curse's aftereffect.

"I'm not fucking around here. Give us the memory."

It took Horace three tries before he could speak, and when he did, the words sounded like he was pushing them through a liquid.

"Need...wand...and bottle"

He heard a muttered conversation and then his wand was forced into his hand, and a glass bottle was placed next to his head.

"No funny business. I told you, I'm not fucking around. Just give us the memory and we won't kill you."

He started to cry, lying in utter disgrace on the floor, threatened by his prize students.

But still, he focused on that horrific memory and pulled it out of his mind, placing it in the bottle.

"Thanks," Harry said as he picked up the bottle with its misty contents, and the complete absurdity that he would be thanked for what he had done under death threats tore great, heaving sobs out of Horace.

Then he felt a wand being placed against his head and knew with an utter, terrible certainty that he was about to die.

"Obliviate!"

* * *

"You ready?"

Hermione nodded, holding the cloak.

"How do I look? No more blood on me?"

"No. I got the rest of it. Just try to seem a bit more relaxed. You look very tense."

"Ok. Let's go"

She tossed the cloak over herself and disappeared from sight just before they turned the corner.

They came to face the gargoyle, and after five tries, it opened to "Pepper Imps."

He took a deep breath and swallowed thickly, staring up at the spiral staircase.

Suddenly, his nerves seemed to have failed him. Was he really going to do this, to attack Dumbledore? To try to disarm the most powerful wizard he'd ever met, to tie him up and demand answers?

Unbidden, his conversation with Dumbledore after Sirius' murder arose in his mind.

' _Sit down, Harry. I am going to tell you everything.'_

' _But he didn't. He didn't trust me. He didn't tell me that it was Snape, that the man who always treated me like dirt was the one who gave the prophecy to Voldemort. He didn't think to tell me when he got cursed, that he was going to die. He didn't think to tell me to be careful. He let Ron die!'_

Strength seemed to pour back into him, and his resolve returned.

' _I don't want to be kept in the dark anymore. I want the truth.'_

He clenched his jaw and nodded to himself, and with Hermione following invisibly, made his way up the staircase to Dumbledore's office.

He paused outside the door for a second, listening. He could hear the soft susurrus created by Dumbledore's many instruments, could hear the portraits' murmured conversation.

He heard Dumbledore saying something.

A brief flash of burning rage shot through him.

' _They probably all know. He trusts paintings more than he trusts me!'_

He gritted his teeth and tried to appear relaxed as he sloshed Slughorn's memory around in the bottle.

Then he breathed deeply and knocked on the door.

Immediately, all sound from within the office stopped.

He knocked again.

"Professor? It's me, I've got the memory!"

He tried to sound excited, to sound like he was pleased.

The door swung open.

Harry steeled himself, wanting nothing more than to reach out and grip Hermione's hand.

But he just walked into the office.

Dumbledore stood up when Harry walked in, smiling widely.

Behind his smile, though, he looked more exhausted than Harry had ever seen him, his face looking more lined, the bags under his eyes more prominent.

"I knew you could do it, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly, stretching out his hand, "and now you have proven me right. Well, let us see..."

As Harry passed the bottle into Dumbledore's hand, he waited for the red jet of the Stunning Spell to fly past him.

But Dumbledore's wand was suddenly in his hand, and he flicked it, just an inch.

In one moment, the Invisibility Cloak tore off of Hermione and along with her wand, flew past Harry's shoulder, coming to rest in mid-air behind Dumbledore.

The portraits all began to shout, screaming in outrage as Dumbledore's eyes narrowed, losing some spark of happiness that usually lit them up.

Harry tried to draw his wand, but Dumbledore merely flicked his again.

And Harry's wand flew from his hand, flying to join the cloak and Hermione's wand.

The air before Harry seemed to turn thick, and he couldn't move his arms or legs.

Dumbledore's eyes pierced him, the intensity of his gaze seeming to burn into Harry's soul.

He just growled back, meeting the old wizard's eye.

Then the tip of Dumbledore's wand glowed a bright silver, and all of the portraits fell silent.

For a few seconds, Harry and Hermione just stood there, stuck in their places, with Dumbledore staring at them.

Dumbledore heaved a great sigh and, sounding older than he even looked, said: "Explain."

Something that Harry hadn't noticed in his incandescent rage vanished, some blockage in his throat that had prevented him speaking and shouting disappeared.

"You-you fucking knew! You knew about Malfoy! You knew, and you didn't stop him, you didn't tell me, you let Ron die, and you-you're dying! You're dying, and you don't trust me enough to tell me! You never told me about Snape, that it was him! You never tell me the full truth! I want the truth!"

Dumbledore paled, his skin going the same colour as his beard.

"What have you done with Severus?" he whispered.

"He'll live. He told us the truth. He told us everything! That _he_ gave Voldemort the prophecy! That he loved my mother, and that you want him to kill you!"

"He will live?" Dumbledore asked, some colour bleeding back into his face.

Harry nodded, scowling.

"What have you done with Mister Malfoy?"

He felt his lips curling, in some sort of terrible smile.

"He's gone on to the next great adventure, headmaster."

Dumbledore sank into his chair, going pale again.

"What have you done?" He whispered, sounding horrified. "What have you done?"

Harry exploded.

"WHAT HAVE I DONE? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? IT'S ALWAYS DO THIS, HARRY, DO THAT, BUT YOU NEVER EXPLAIN! STAY AT PRIVET DRIVE WITH NO CONTACT, BUT YOU WON'T EXPLAIN WHY! YOU WON'T TELL ME ABOUT THE PROPHECY, OR THE CONNECTION TO VOLDEMORT, OR THAT HE WANTED TO LURE ME TO THE DEPARTMENT OF MYSTERIES! YOU HAD A FUCKING DEATH EATER UNDER YOUR NOSE, AND HE ALMOST KILLED KATIE, AND YOU STILL IGNORED HIM! AND HE KILLED RON, AND YOU FUCKING IGNORE IT! YOU DONT EXPLAIN WHY YOU'RE TEACHING ME ABOUT VOLDEMORT, I'M JUST EXPECTED TO GO ALONG WITH IT! HOW MANY PEOPLE DO I HAVE TO LOSE BEFORE YOU'LL EXPLAIN ANYTHING?! I WANT THE TRUTH! ALL OF IT!"

Dumbledore just sat there through Harry's rant, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Harry," he said, once the echoes had died down. "Miss Granger. I have kept certain truths from you. But it was always in the interest- "

"If you say it was to protect me," Harry interrupted, heating up again, "I'm going to lose my fucking mind! Don't I get a say?! I want to hear it! I want to know!"

Dumbledore kept his eyes focused on Harry for a bit, on his heaving chest and flushed face. Then he nodded and glanced at Hermione.

"And you, Hermione?"

"We deserve to know, sir. You owe us this."

Dumbledore removed his spectacles and rubbed at his eyes, sighing again.

"So I do. You deserve the truth. But the truth is a dangerous- "

"Spare us the trite bullshit," Harry said, interrupting again and not caring in the least. "Just tell us the truth!"

Dumbledore put his glasses back on and nodded, tugging at his beard.

"Very well. First. Is this truly the memory?"

"Yes"

"And Horace is well?"

Harry could hear the smirk in Hermione's voice.

"He won't remember giving it to us. I made sure of that."

"Fine. I do not approve, but I do not think that you care much."

"We don't," Harry snarled. "It's not like we approve of your decisions."

Dumbledore winced.

"I deserve that," he muttered. "Second. Will Draco's body be discovered? And could anyone tie you to it?"

"No. And the only people who could figure it out are Neville and Luna."

Dumbledore's eyes welled up for a moment. "They will have to be Obliviated," he said, looking at Hermione. "It is far too much of a risk to leave anyone with this knowledge. Can you handle it?"

"Why should I?"

Dumbledore leaned back, sighing again.

"The truth, then. You know that Severus took an Unbreakable Vow?"

"He told us. He swore to protect Draco. Much good that did."

Dumbledore's eyes tore into Harry again.

"And you have no idea how much damage you may have caused. When I found out about Draco, I was faced with four options. I could sacrifice Severus and take action against Draco, losing a spy for the sake of the students' security. I could kill or incapacitate Draco without Severus knowing, leaving him alive. But that as well would reduce his efficiency. Over the last two years, we have carefully crafted his persona for Voldemort. Voldemort believes that I trust Severus above all others, that I do not act with regards to the Death Eaters without consulting him. Negating that persona would ruin his ability as a spy, almost as much as killing him would. Voldemort would never trust him again."

"And your fourth option?"

A single tear escaped Dumbledore's eye and slowly began making its way down his face.

"The fourth option. The one with the highest danger, and the greatest possible rewards. Pretend to know nothing about Draco's orders. Show him kindness to increase his guilt. Keep watch, to ensure the safety of as many students as possible. And have Severus slowly drop hints to Draco, pushing him toward abandoning Voldemort. It would be a grand coup for the Malfoys to switch sides. Even with Lucius' imprisonments, their name still carries weight. They would bring money, international contacts, and information along with them."

"And-and that was worth risking the students' lives?" Harry asked, blood beginning to boil again.

Dumbledore looked down for a second.

"I deemed the risk level to be acceptable."

"SO RON'S DEATH WAS ACCEPTABLE? IT WAS JUST A CALCULATION? THAT'S ALL?!"

Dumbledore looked at him, and a cold shock ran through Harry when he saw the depths of the pain in those striking eyes.

"Everything comes secondary to Voldemort's defeat," Dumbledore said quietly. "Everything."

"I'm sorry, Professor" Hermione called shrilly. "I must be mistaken. I read that you defeated Grindelwald, not that you adopted his ideology."

Dumbledore winced again and turned his gaze to her.

"It is not a matter of ideology. It is a matter of mathematics. Of the terrible algebra of tragedy. How many lives can be sacrificed, so that untold thousands of future generations can be born and live in freedom?"

His eyes swung back to Harry.

"How much happiness can be cast aside," he asked, tears now flowing freely down his worn face, "so that children can live and play and rejoice in a world without fear?"

"So you decided that-that it was worth- "

"I wish, with all my heart, that Draco had not managed to kill anyone. I wish that you did not have any extra pain added to a life which has already experienced far too much. I wish that Ronald Weasley were here right now, shouting at me along with you two. And I will never stop wishing that until the day that I die. I will never stop feeling the guilt and self-doubt. But my pain, your pain, the pain of the entire Weasley family. All of it is secondary to the pain the world will know if Voldemort is not defeated."

"Why do you get to decide?" Harry said, stuttering over the lump in his throat, wanting to simply wipe the tears from his eyes.

Wanting to jump over and punch Dumbledore, to stop him from speaking his cold, cruel logic.

"Because there is no-one else who can. I spent half of my life running from decisions like this. But, during Voldemort's first rise, there was no-one else capable of making them. And if no-one makes these decisions, the war will be lost."

"Why-why don't you just fight him?" Harry said, knowing that he was grasping at straws, but still, needing to break Dumbledore's logic, to make him feel as bad as he felt.

"That is where our lessons step in. I could duel Voldemort. I could very possibly kill him. But it would be worth nothing."

Harry just goggled, as Dumbledore withdrew the Pensieve and poured Slughorn's memory in.

"Worth...nothing?" He said faintly. "Worth nothing? What the- "

"Pay attention, please."

Dumbledore rapped the surface of the Pensieve with his wand, muttering something.

And the memory rose out of it, a misty scene being played into the air.

They watched in silence, as young Voldemort asked Slughorn about Horcruxes.

But this version of Slughorn's memory was not distorted.

In this version, they saw Slughorn answering, explaining about a path to immortality, how one could achieve eternal life through murder.

And they saw Voldemort asking his question, saw and heard Slughorn saying that yes, more than one Horcrux could be made.

And brutal, terrible understanding made its way down Harry's spine.

"You knew!" he said, his voice coming out distorted, "you knew! The Ring, that was- "

Dumbledore stopped his pacing and sat down, looking older than he had even until then.

"I knew that Voldemort had made more than one," he said, sounding exhausted. "The Diary. The one which possessed Miss Weasley. That was a Horcrux. I knew that he would not be so foolish as to entrust his only source of immortality unto one of his followers. And I had suspicions about another. But I did not know the number that he planned on making."

Hermione gasped. "The Ring," she said, breathlessly, "the Ring, and the Locket, and the Cup."

Dumbledore nodded.

"Precisely. Precisely. Objects belonging to the Founders."

"What are the others? Something from Gryffindor? Something from Ravenclaw?"

"The only object that Godric Gryffindor saw fit to leave behind," Dumbledore said, gesturing to a sword hanging on his wall, "is safe. Something from Ravenclaw, yes. I believe he found the Lost Diadem. But where would he place it?"

"That's only five. What about the other two?"

Dumbledore looked at Harry blankly, staring at him for a moment before speaking.

"I believe that he only planned to create six. That the seventh would remain in his body. As for the sixth, I believe it to be his snake, Nagini."

Abruptly, the air around Harry and Hermione lost its thickness, and a chair appeared behind each of them.

"Sit," Dumbledore said, sounding like his usual, kindly self. "This is a lot to take in. And we are not done. Not yet."

"So, he's got Horcruxes. And he can't die unless they're destroyed." Harry said, collapsing into the chair.

"Precisely. If they are not destroyed in time if he is not dealt with. If he wins, eventually, all of the memories I showed you will be forgotten. And Voldemort will rule forever."

Dumbledore turned to Hermione. "Muggles would be little more than slaves or playthings, in his world. Muggleborns would be treated more terribly than you could imagine. He will take all that is good in the world and corrupt it beyond recognition."

Slowly, the rage that had been burning in Harry since his terrible realization in his bedroom ebbed away, leaving a cold fear to take its place.

"I have shown you all this, Harry, because I fear I will not be able to destroy his Horcruxes before I pass on. I do not yet know where the Diadem and Cup are kept. I only have a tenuous lead on the Locket's location. And I do not want to go after Nagini, not until the others are dealt with. Killing his snake would let him know that I am onto his secret."

"How do you know he had the Diadem?" Hermione asked, "it's been lost for centuries!"

"I interviewed the school ghosts about their memories of Tom Riddle. Did you know that the Grey Lady is none other than Helena Ravenclaw, Rowena's daughter?"

Harry just shook his head.

"Indeed. I was forced to compel her to speak, but as headmaster, it was entirely within my abilities. It was her, all those centuries ago, who stole the Diadem from her mother and hid it away. And it was her, fifty years ago, who told Voldemort where she had hidden it."

"So- "

"So, if I die, and this task is not complete, it will fall to your shoulders," Dumbledore said, looking at Harry and Hermione with pity. "Perhaps it is for the best that you discovered my plans with Severus. He will be able to help you."

"What about the Order? Why can't they help?"

Dumbledore shook his head gravely.

"This must remain secret. If Voldemort so much as suspects that his Horcruxes are in danger, they will be hidden away even more secretly, kept on his person, made unable to be found. For every additional person who knows about them, the chance of Voldemort finding out is raised exponentially. No. No-one but yourselves, Severus, and I can know."

"You really-you really trust him? That much? I know he loved my mother, but- "

Dumbledore touched the tip of his wand to his temple and withdrew a silvery strand of memory.

Again, he prodded the surface of the Pensieve and muttered, and the memory began to play.

They saw Snape, crying like a wounded animal in this very office, moaning and weeping about Harry's mother.

As the memory finished, Dumbledore placed another one in.

And they watched, as Snape conjured a gleaming doe Patronus.

"Your mother was the doe to your father's stag. After all this time, his Patronus still reflects her. This was recent. I assure you; I trust Severus."

"I hate him."

"You do not have to like him. But when he has information, when he has advice, you will listen."

"If he has anything useful, we will." Harry muttered.

Dumbledore nodded, eyes gleaming.

"Well, then. Many plans will have to be adjusted, with Draco's disappearance. But, for however long I have left, we will continue meeting. Hermione Granger?"

Hermione looked up sharply.

"You will be joining us. It is time that we work on your combat abilities. You must be able to survive on your own. When I am gone, Hogwarts will doubtless fall to the Death Eaters. You will have to hunt the Horcruxes from outside these hallowed walls. Your sneaking abilities must improve. Your fighting must improve. Thankfully, we may still have time."

"May?"

Dumbledore met Harry's eyes again, tears still leaking from his own.

"I cannot entirely choose the time of my death. I hope to push it off as long as possible, but I am not in control."

Harry nodded, and began to rise, ready to just go and think, to try and wrap his head around everything he'd learned over the last few hours.

"You wanted the entire truth, did you not?"

His head snapped around to face Dumbledore again.

"You-you said- "

"There is one more thing. Sit down, both of you."

Dumbledore sighed again, wiping the tears away before speaking.

"You have proven tonight, that I cannot simply rely on everything going according to my plans, well-laid though they may be. I did not want to tell you this, not until I have had a chance to complete my research. But if I die before I can, if no-one ever tells you, the results would be beyond catastrophic."

An icy fist gripped Harry's heart. Something inside him began to scream, telling him to not listen, to shut Dumbledore up.

He gritted his teeth, gripped the arms of his chair, and nodded.

Dumbledore looked at him for a second, tears filling his eyes again, and then spoke.

"When the Killing Curse rebounded off of you and hit Voldemort, it destroyed his body. But his soul was already fragile, full of cracks from his myriad crimes, freshly split from your mother's murder. When the Killing Curse hit him, his Horcruxes kept him alive. But he had caused irreparable damage to his soul. When it hit him, it split anew, a small piece tearing itself off."

A rushing sound filled Harry's ears, all but blocking out Hermione shocked gasp.

"And that small piece, it was pulled toward the only whole soul in the room. That small piece lodged itself in you, Harry. It made you into a makeshift Horcrux."

Harry's heart seemed to stop beating. His breath caught in his throat, as the meaning of Dumbledore's words impacted him.

He was keeping Voldemort alive. He would have to die, for Voldemort to die. He would never get to live properly.

He felt Hermione's hand gripping his shoulder, squeezing it tight, her love flowing through her touch.

"It is how you gained your Parselmouth ability. It is the reason behind your connection to his mind."

"So-so I have to die?"

He didn't even notice Hermione bursting into tears and leaping out of her chair, didn't notice her hugging him.

His eyes were trained on Dumbledore's, on the flow of tears making their way onto the old man's face.

Slowly, Dumbledore nodded.

"I have not completed my research. It is possible that a dementor could be of assistance. There may be another way. But as it stands, there is only one tiny chance."

Hope began to burn, a small fire in the ashes of despair in his chest.

"Voldemort used your blood to resurrect himself. Your blood, which is filled with your mother's sacrificial magic. If Voldemort is the one to kill you, it may be possible that your blood in his veins will tether you to life. It is only a slight chance, but it may prove true."

"I-I don't want to die."

Hermione hugged him tighter, her sobs growing louder.

Dumbledore just looked at him sadly.

"Everything is secondary to Voldemort's defeat," he said. "Everything."

As the sun began to rise outside the office, its rays shining onto the desk, Harry nodded.

"Harry. You asked why I did not tell you that I am dying?"

He nodded automatically, his head feeling like it was stuffed with cotton wool.

"I confess, I believed that you loved me. I could not bear to hurt you any further than you have already been hurt."

Hermione stood up, wiping furiously at her eyes, as Harry himself stood, his muscles screaming at him for rest, his brain needing time to process.

"Harry," Dumbledore said again. "I never wanted any of this for you. I wanted you to have a long, happy life. And I hope that somehow you still can."

Harry just stared for a moment, the words jumbling on his tongue.

"Thanks, Professor," he finally said. "But I guess happiness just isn't in the cards for me."


	4. War

Chapter 4: War

"Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster, and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you."—Friedrich Nietzsche

"If I have learned anything in this long life of mine, it is this: in love, we find out who we want to be; in war, we find out who we are."—Kristin Hannah-The Nightingale

* * *

He ran through the raindrops, spinning around a curse aimed at him, casting a shield charm in front of another, throwing a large clod of dirt up before a third.

He ran with his wand twisting and slashing, curses and hexes flying toward the Death Eaters who dared defile the grounds of Hogwarts.

Fury clouded his mind, fury and pain.

He'd known this was coming. He'd known it for almost three months, since they'd questioned Snape.

He'd known it would be soon for two weeks now, since Dumbledore had drunk that terrible potion, all to get a fake locket, possibly planted by Regulus Black.

They still hadn't found the real one, but as Dumbledore had said in one of his coherent moments, they had to move with the assumption that Regulus Arcturus Black had not managed to destroy it.

For two weeks, he'd watched Dumbledore grow more and more frail, his brilliant mind growing weaker, and he'd known that it would be soon.

He'd even known that it would be tonight since Snape had informed him of the exact plans.

Still, he was furious.

Furious that he had to watch Dumbledore die. Furious that he had to let Snape go.

Furious that Ginny, who had only just come back to Hogwarts a few weeks previously, had to fight Death Eaters.

But if he hadn't let Snape kill Dumbledore, if he had let his feelings towards the greasy git take control of him, then everything would be for nothing.

Ron would have died for nothing.

So he gave chase, flinging curses with wild abandon, pouring his wrath upon the Death Eaters as they ran toward the hole Snape had drilled in the wards.

A Death Eater dropped before him, lit up momentarily by the Killing Curse as it collided.

And the rest of them escaped, disapparating as they moved past the border of the wards.

Harry fell to his knees, impotent rage still burning strong, the smoke from Hagrid's hut making his eyes blur.

And then she was there, hugging him tightly.

"Did anyone else get...?"

He couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't actually ask if anyone else he cared about had been killed.

"No," she whispered. "Bill, he was attacked by Greyback, but he'll survive. He won't even be a werewolf. No-one else got more than a broken arm."

He nodded, flames lighting up the corners of his vision.

"After the wedding," he said, gripping her tight, "we start. We'll play it like normal till then unless the Ministry falls earlier. But immediately after that, we move."

"Are you sure? I know we agreed, but we can't leave it too long."

"I'm sure," he said, and the decision felt right, more right than anything else since Ron had been killed. "They deserve some real happiness. And if it will make them happier for us to be there, they deserve it. And I think that-that we deserve some happiness too."

She looked into his eyes.

The crying from the entrance to the castle reached their ears, from the place where Dumbledore had died, where his body still lay.

Even though he had known it was coming, even though his feelings toward Dumbledore were a confused jumble of adoration, love, and revulsion, it still hurt.

It still hurt, to know that Dumbledore was dead, that Ron was dead, that Sirius was dead, and that in order to win, he would have to die.

Even from such a distance, he could hear Hagrid roaring out his grief, and it made him feel lonelier than he ever had before.

But Hermione helped him to his feet, and he hugged her tight, both of them starting to cry.

For all intents and purposes, they were on their own.

* * *

He stared down at the two Death Eaters, surrounded by the wreckage of the cafe.

It was meant to be happy. The Weasleys deserved something happy.

They deserved it, damnit.

His fingers tightened around his wand.

"Is there any reason," he asked, making sure that his petrified enemies heard him, "that we should let them live?"

He heard her growl, saw her raising her wand in his peripheral vision.

"None that I can think of. Let's leave them for him to find."

Their wands moved as one.

It may not have been Horcrux destruction, but it did ensure that Voldemort was down by two of his followers.

And really, it was a good thing either way.

* * *

"We have to try, Harry! We have to!"

"I can't! You want me to speak to that thing?! It as good as killed Sirius, and you want me to speak to it calmly?"

She took his hand, squeezing gently.

"Everything is secondary," she reminded him. "And he might know. He might, Harry. I'll talk to him. You just have to call him and let him live. That's all."

He spun around, his arm lashing out and punching a dent in the wall of Regulus' room.

From downstairs, Sirius' mother's portrait began to shriek.

"Fine. Fine. But if it won't help, I'm killing the fucking thing."

She took his hand again, and with a tear falling down her face, nodded.

He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself down.

Finally, he felt ready.

"Kreacher!"

Instantly, a crack split the air, and the insane elf appeared.

It muttered balefully, staring at Harry and cursing his name to itself.

He just reminded himself how important it could be.

"Kreacher?" Hermione asked kindly, "can I ask you something?"

It didn't even look at her, choosing instead to continue its muttering.

"The Mudblood thinks to speak to Kreacher, how despicable, what would Mistress think, how would- "

Harry managed to not draw his wand, to not kill it, to not curse it into oblivion.

"Answer her, elf. Now."

With one last balefully muttered insult, it turned to face her.

"How can Kreacher help Master's Mudblood friend?"

"Do you know anything about a Locket? One that Regulus stole from the Dark Lord?"

Kreacher went absolutely still. Its twitching stopped, its mumbling ceased, and it just stared at Hermione.

"What do you know, Kreacher? We know that Regulus wanted to destroy it. That's what we want to do, we swear."

Its eyes widened even further and for once, it addressed Hermione without insulting her.

"You is wanting to destroy it?"

She nodded solemnly. "We swear we do. Right, Harry?"

He didn't want to speak to the elf more than was necessary, so he just grunted.

"Kreacher was trying, but the wizard-magic was too strong, and Kreacher-Kreacher failed!"

Kreacher began to wail, tugging at its ear with one hand, punching itself in the face with the other.

"We know how to destroy it, Kreacher. And we're going to. But we need- "

"You is knowing?"

"We know," Harry said, "now tell us everything about the Locket. How you know about it, where it is. Everything."

And Kreacher spoke. He spoke for what felt like hours, telling over the tale of Regulus' bravery.

As he spoke, Harry's opinion of the elf changed. At the beginning of Kreacher's speech, Harry hated it almost as much as he did Snape.

By the end, though, he almost felt pity for the miserable elf.

"So," he said, rubbing his hands together, for the first time in weeks feeling the thrill of actually having something to do. "Mundungus stole the Locket."

Mundungus, who had left him to the Dementors.

Mundungus, who had abandoned Moody in their flight, leaving him to face Voldemort alone.

Mundungus, who had been stealing Sirius' stuff. Who had been stealing his stuff.

"Is Master going to kill him?" Kreacher asked with delight.

He glanced over at Hermione and came to his decision.

"No. But I am going to make him be useful. Kreacher, I want you to find him. And bring him back here. Can you do that?"

For the first time since Harry had known the elf, Kreacher beamed.

"Of course, Master Harry, sir! Of course! It is being a pleasure!"

Pity overcame disgust, and Harry pulled the fake locket out of his pocket.

"This was Regulus'. You can have it as soon as you bring us Mundungus."

He'd barely finished speaking before the elf was gone.

* * *

"Please, Potter! Please, don't!"

"Tell us where the fuck it is! Where, Fletcher? Where?!"

Mundungus shook on the floor, something in his pockets jangling with his tremors.

"I swear, Potter, I don't have it!"

Hermione pushed her wand into his neck's flabby skin and hissed.

"You'd better tell us who you sold it to," she said softly, "or we'll let Kreacher have you."

"Thank you, Mistress! Thank you!"

Mundungus swallowed, his glance skittering over to where Kreacher stood, hefting a heavy club with nails in it.

"That Umbridge woman! She confiscated it! I swear, she took it! She has it!"

The scars on the back of Harry's hand suddenly itched so hard he almost screamed.

"Fine. This is how it's going to be, Mundungus. You owe us. You owe us big time. So, you're going to do a few favours for us."

Mundungus tried to raise his hand, but Harry stepped on it before he could.

"Stop that. You're going to get us some information."

"What type of information?"

"As much as you can get on the Malfoy Manor Wards, and whatever you can tell us about Bellatrix Lestrange's whereabouts. Where she lives, that type of thing."

Mundungus paled.

"You've got to be kidding me, no way, I- "

"Kreacher."

"All right! All right!"

"You'll do it?"

Mundungus nodded, giving them a weak smile.

"Course. You know that you can trust me. Fair's fair, I owe you guys."

"Good," Harry said, looking over at Hermione. She nodded and stretched out her hand.

"Then you won't mind taking the Unbreakable Vow. Just that you'll do whatever you physically can to get us this information, without endangering us. Or putting yourself in more than a reasonable level of danger."

"And before you ask," Hermione said with a grim smile, "we're the people defining a reasonable level of danger."

Mundungus just stared at them for a second before sagging.

"Fine. Not like I have any choice."

' _It's not like I have any choice either.'_ Harry thought as he watched Hermione grip hands with scum.

* * *

He punched her as hard as he could, putting all of his weight behind his fist and trying to compress all of his hatred into one action.

Umbridge's nose broke, blood immediately gushing out of it in a great torrent.

Hermione tutted. "Harry, that is no way for a wizard to behave. This is how we do it. Crucio!"

From when Hermione lifted the torture curse, Umbridge's demeanour changed entirely.

Up until that point, she'd retained some of her imperious mannerisms, acting as if she were in charge, even tied to a chair in her own lounge.

Once the curse was lifted, however, she became a diminutive, pleading mess, her eyes darting from Harry to Hermione to her disgusting cat decorations.

"What do you w-want? I gave you the L-Locket, I swear that I won't-I won't report you! I swear! What do you want?"

Harry grabbed one of her cat plates and threw it on the ground, making her wince and shut her eyes tightly.

"We want you screaming!"

"W-why?"

Hermione laughed, a shrill edge of madness coming out of her throat.

"Why? I thought you had some brains, Umbridge."

Umbridge just stared at them, her pale skin standing out against her pink clothes.

"You know," Hermione continued, "I'm a Muggleborns. A Mudblood, as you say. I'm rather displeased about how you would like to treat me, and all the people like me."

"I can-I can help you! I can help you escape, make sure you're not found, I have contacts! Lots of them!"

Hermione just carried on as if the bitch hadn't spoken.

"And I'm still furious about how you treated my friend when you were supposed to be a teacher."

Harry raised his hand, angling it so that Umbridge could clearly see the words carved into it.

"And, of course, how you and your Ministry pals just made everything so much easier for your master. But I paid you back for that, didn't I? Do you remember the centaurs? How you were outwitted by a Mudblood child?"

Umbridge was crying, struggling against her bonds.

"But the thing that absolutely infuriated me more than everything else. That would have to be the report we found upstairs. Your report on the Weasley family."

Harry aimed his wand alongside Hermione's. Umbridge tried to focus on both of them at once, leading to her eyes crossing and her tears just coming harder.

"Tell us, Senior Undersecretary. Tell us how you described Ron Weasley's death."

"I-I- "

"Fucking say it," Harry spat, "say it. You were brave enough to write it, now say it!"

Umbridge clenched her eyes tightly shut, and spoke in a tiny, terrified voice.

"No great loss."

"Is that all it said?" Hermione asked.

"No great loss," Umbridge repeated, "he was a blood-traitor and a stupid one at that."

"So, you see, Umbridge. I may have been able to put aside everything else you've done. I doubt it, but it may have been possible. But I can't ignore that."

The bitch's eyes flew open.

"Please! Please! I'll- "

Hermione nodded.

And both of them called out: "Avada Kedavra!"

* * *

"I know that you can't tell me what it is that you're doing. But let me help you!"

Harry put down his mug, turning the idea over in his mind.

It could be useful, having Remus along. He could definitely be of assistance.

But for Remus to really help, he would need to know what they were dealing with. And that would increase the risk of Voldemort finding out.

Besides. Why was Remus here, and not with Tonks?

He asked, and his jaw fell open as Lupin explained.

Explained that he was scared, that he was going to abandon someone who loved him and who he loved, simply because he was scared.

He found Hermione's hand gripping his, and knew she felt as he did.

"Not a fucking chance," he growled. "Not a chance. You're going back to your wife. You're going to be there for your kid."

"You don't understand!" Lupin shouted, and Harry found himself standing with his wand drawn because he _did_ understand. He understood that Remus had a chance for a life, something that he would never have. That Remus would have a chance to raise a kid, to spend a lifetime with the person he loved, and that he could never have that.

And if he could have had even the possibility of that, he would fight with every ounce of strength he had to keep it, not to run away because he was scared.

"You are- "

Something loud erupted out of Hermione's wand, and they all turned to her.

She squeezed Harry's hand, and with tears running down her face, reminded him.

"Everything is secondary, Harry. Everything."

And although he wished he could, he couldn't argue with that.

"You can't join us," she told Lupin. "But you can help us. We have two main objectives. The first, we can't tell you about. The second, however, we can."

Lupin sat down again, looking eager.

"But," she said, glancing at Harry. "Well only tell you if you agree to go back to Tonks. If you stay with her except when we need you."

"I-I can't! I can't! I- "

"Then we're on our own. And you're making her and your kid be on their own. Is that fair?"

Lupin started standing, managing to half-rise before he slumped back into his chair.

"Fine," he muttered. "Fine. You don't understand. You can't. But I-I will try. I will, I swear. Just let me help."

"Our secondary objective is vigilante activity. Attacking Death Eaters, trying to capture some of them, if possible. We need to weaken them in that way as well. And we could use the help."

Harry grimaced, rubbing his shoulder. It was still sore, three weeks after their attempted kidnapping of Augustus Rookwood. The man had gotten away, almost tearing Harry's arm off of his body in the process.

"Yaxley and Dolohov," Lupin whispered. "That was you?"

Harry nodded. Almost five months on, and from what they heard, Yaxley and Dolohov's murders were still big news.

"And Umbridge?"

"Also. And Flint. And the young Avery."

Lupin swallowed. "You're not joking around, are you?"

"No. The time for leaving them alive is long passed. Kill them, or they'll kill us."

Silence fell on the table for another few minutes, broken only by Kreacher bringing fresh mugs of tea.

"I'm in," Lupin finally said. "God help me, but I'm in. What're the plans?"

Harry and Hermione looked at each other for a bit. He inclined his head, and she began to talk.

"We need the higher-ranking Death Eaters, if possible. We want to capture Bellatrix, but she's proving very difficult to corner."

Lupin gave a jagged laugh. "Capture Bellatrix? Capture Bellatrix? It took four Aurors to bring her in, last time."

"That's why we're trying to capture other Death Eaters, for Polyjuice. She won't be expecting an attack from them."

"You're in over your heads," Lupin said, shaking his own, "far too deep. This is too much."

"Remus," Harry said, his voice thick, "we're not kids. We know. But we have to do this."

Looking uncertain, Lupin slowly nodded again. "And other plans?"

"Malfoy Manor. But we need a lot more information before we can even think of that. For now, attacking Death Eaters. Kill and run."

"Malfoy Manor," Lupin said weakly. "Sweet Merlin, why?"

' _Because there might be some information there. Because there was once a Horcrux there. Because they gave birth to the piece of shit that killed Ron.'_

They just looked stonily back at him.

He sighed and repeated himself.

"I'm in. God help us all, but I'm in."

* * *

As the front door opened, Harry flicked his wand and incanted non-verbally.

' _Expelliarmus!'_

Snape hadn't even crossed the threshold yet when the spell hit him.

As it did, he grabbed at his robe pocket, squeezing something tightly in there.

Whatever it was, it didn't fly to Harry.

But Snape's wand did.

"Potter," he said with his usual sneer and eye-roll. "You assured me you would stop attempting to disarm me when I entered."

"I didn't attempt to disarm you. I disarmed you."

"Nevertheless."

"I wasn't sure it was you," Harry said innocently.

"You responded to my Patronus!"

"Let me correct that. I wasn't sure if maybe your hatred for my father finally outweighed your love for my mother."

"Unlikely. Return my wand to me."

"Same as always. I'll give it to you when you go."

Snape stood there for a moment before sighing and walking toward the lounge.

"Call Granger. She'll wish to be present."

"You've got it?" Harry demanded.

Snape ignored him.

Harry ran to Hermione and a few minutes later they were both sitting with Snape in the lounge.

"I managed to get a replica made. It still hangs in my office. Thus, if the Carrows ever notice something outside of their own disgusting love lives, they won't realize that anything's changed."

He withdrew the Sword of Gryffindor from his pocket.

Harry barely noticed how he must have enchanted his robes to be able to hold it. He just stared, as the sword was brought out.

Slowly, almost reverently, Snape placed it on the table.

"And, almost as good, I bring this."

His hand reached into his pocket again and came out holding a bundle of papers, all covered in tiny, spidery writing.

"The top page is the key to the cypher. The rest are my notes on the Wards of Malfoy Manor."

He put them next to the sword and looked up.

"Now. Not much has changed within the hierarchy. I am still the most favoured, followed closely by Bellatrix, Rookwood, and Avery. However, Jugson has been rising in the ranks. Most of the Slytherin students from your year will be joining the Death Eaters upon their graduation."

Harry nodded, waving his finger in a gesture for Snape to keep going.

"Bellatrix lashed out at Nott, after your last attempt to kidnap her. The Dark Lord did not intervene. Do not attempt to feign his appearance again."

"He's dead?"

"Are you incapable of understanding the meaning behind what I say? Shall I bring you a picture book, next time?"

"Remember who has your wand, Snape."

Snape breathed deeply before continuing.

"Yes. Nott is dead. His son is still joining. He believes you to be the cause of his father's death, and would like nothing more than to behead you."

"Let him join the queue."

Hermione actually giggled at that.

"The Taboo continues unabated. Again, within this home, you should be fine. But rather try not to say it, to avoid the habit."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"And finally, they still believe that you are not here. That my searches have turned up nothing. Your hideout remains safe, for a while longer. But do you have another prepared?"

"If we're safe, why do we need another one?"

Snape stared at him like he was a particularly useless flobberworm.

"Because," he said, dragging the words out as if he were speaking to someone mentally challenged, "if you are prepared for every eventuality, it is unlikely that you will be surprised."

He glanced at his watch and stood up, putting his coat back on.

"I will help with Bellatrix. But first, deal with the Malfoys."

"We will."

"Good. And, much as it pains me to compliment you, nice work with Greyback."

"Thanks. But we let Lupin take care of him."

"It. Lupin took care of it. Believe me, Greyback was worse than you could possibly imagine."

* * *

For possibly the first time since he'd met the man, Lupin was truly happy.

"A healthy boy!" He exclaimed, hugging Harry again. "And he's absolutely beautiful! Can't tell you what he looks like, his nose already changed shape twice, but he's perfect!"

Harry smiled, feeling tears prickle his eyes.

It was good that Lupin and Tonks had something amazing, something to give them happiness. They deserved it.

It still hurt, that it was just a reminder of what Harry would never be able to have.

"We want you to be godfather."

At first, the words didn't process in Harry's mind.

Then he understood, and he frantically shook his head.

"I can't, Remus, it's not- "

Remus just smiled sadly and gripped his shoulder.

"Harry. If all goes well, your job will be to spoil him rotten."

But Harry knew that all would not go well, that whether they won or lost the war, he would not be coming out alive.

"And if," Remus' voice faltered for a second before he regained his strength. "If I should die, I want Teddy to have someone who knows what it was like, growing up without a father."

"Remus, I-I might die, I might, and- "

He couldn't tell Remus. It would hurt him too much. The only people who knew were Hermione and Snape, and perhaps that was why Snape had lost some of the acid in his voice whenever he addressed Harry.

"Harry. You are beyond resourceful. And I have faith in you."

Harry almost lost it, right then. He almost spilt everything, almost told Remus how he simply could not survive this, not unless Hermione's research bore fruit, not unless Dumbledore's mad theory proved right.

He almost told him that he'd been living with a death sentence hanging over his head for more than a year, that it was definitely affecting his sanity, that he would be the most useless godfather ever.

But Hermione squeezed his hand, and he managed to swallow his words.

"I'll do it," he whispered, hating himself, hating that he was burdening Lupin with another friend who would die and leave him, "I'll be honoured."

Lupin clapped him on the back.

"Amazing. Amazing. I need to get heading back, but I just had to tell you."

"Remus," Hermione called as he made his way to the door. He half-turned, looking at her questioningly. "Next week is the anniversary. We're taking the Manor the next day."

"The next day?"

"Our information is that it should be mostly empty then. They're trying to make their waves in France, they've got some operation planned for then. Only a few of them should be there. The Malfoys, of course, their prisoners, and..."

Lupin's eyes narrowed, gaining just a hint of an amber sheen to them.

"And?"

"Pettigrew."

His face hardened, his teeth seeming to elongate slightly.

"So, we're going to be meeting next week to plan. Please, apologize to Tonks for us. But..."

"But everything is secondary," Lupin said, his voice somewhere near a growl.

* * *

It was quiet, except for the crackling of the fire. Kreacher would not disturb them. Not this night.

Harry raised his glass of firewhisky, feeling his throat clench up, feeling the tears prickle at the corners of his eyes.

"Happy birthday, Ron. Wherever you are. I hope that it's-it's good there. I hope that you can see us. That you're proud of us. That you'd still be friends with us, even after everything we've done."

Hermione gave a loud sob, her hand shaking so badly that her firewhisky almost spilt.

"And I-I miss you. We both do. That's-that's all."

Hermione raised her glass, speaking through the tears.

"I love you, Ron. I guess I always will. I hope you don't hate us, after all the killing we've done. All the killing and torturing. I hope that you would still love me. Love us."

They clinked their glasses together and drank, letting the whisky add its fire to their pain.

Hermione threw a few more books into her bag, calling out immediately afterwards.

"Done."

* * *

Harry's hand tightened, forcing his wand to rise.

"Any other secret hiding places?"

Lucius shook his head.

He was a pallid, shrunken version of the intimidating man Harry had first seen in Borgin and Burke's. His hair had lost its sheen and seemed thinner, his face was more lined, lacking some of its proud beauty.

He kneeled next to his wife and Peter Pettigrew, their wands snapped before their eyes, their hands tightly tied behind their backs.

"Potter," Narcissa said, "Please, we have no more secrets. We've told you everything. Please. We have not been active for- "

Harry's curse cut a large gash across her face, blood immediately splattering Pettigrew.

Her husband just closed his eyes, but Pettigrew shrieked and fell over, trying in vain to transform.

Lupin kicked him.

"You think," Harry said, his voice trembling with rage, "that there's a single fucking chance that I'd let you live? You really think so? After what your son did?"

Blood began to deep into the floor, staining the rich, expensive carpets.

"We took care of him," Hermione said, a type of cruel glee that Harry had never heard before twisting her voice, "and you should have heard how he screamed. Like a little girl, didn't he?"

Harry nodded, and Narcissa began to sob.

"Just make it quick," Lucius said, somehow managing to sound imperious.

Harry looked at the Malfoys and thought of Ron.

He thought of Ginny, possessed by a Horcrux.

He looked at Pettigrew and thought of his parents.

He thought of Sirius, locked up in hell for a crime he would never have committed.

And he looked at the three of them and thought of the prisoners they'd rescued.

Luna, not smiling, lacking her air of mistiness, instead coated in a black depression.

Dean, tortured to an inch away from death.

Ollivander, an old, frail man, with more broken bones than those unbroken.

The dead, unnamed goblin, rotting away in the cells.

No, making it quick would not be an appropriate response.

He raised his wand, rage burning its fires in his eyes.

And when she heard what he incanted; Hermione mirrored him.

"Incendio!"

* * *

"We want to help."

Dean was still in bed, albeit able to finally sit up unaided. Luna had been walking around and was sitting next to him.

Andromeda Tonks' ministrations had managed to nurse them back to health over the week and a half since they'd escaped.

"We want to help," Dean repeated. "It's been you guys, hasn't it? Doing all the attacks?"

Harry nodded.

"We heard them talking, sometimes. You're damaging them. But you've also got them scared. That's good. They should be scared."

Luna gave a loud sob, and Dean stretched his arms around her protectively.

Harry shuddered. She hadn't been as bad today, but when she had first found out about her father...

He knew he would never forget how she had wailed.

"Once you're all healed," Hermione said, "Then you can help us in action. Andromeda says it'll still be another week or two though. How are the new wands coming along?"

Luna brightened up and gave her wand a wave, levitating a pillow over to herself.

"It's almost as good as my first one was," she said, a hint of tears still lurking in her words.

"Yeah. Mine too."

"Great. Ollivander, he said you guys kept him sane."

"We had the DA to thank for that, mate," Dean said, nodding to Hermione. "Luna still has her coin. So, we've been getting all the Hogwarts news. Not that any of it was good, but it helped."

"What's been going on there?"

"You haven't heard?" Dean asked, flabbergasted.

Harry and Hermione shared a look. Snape had been extremely reluctant to talk about what had been happening at Hogwarts, other than a few tidbits of the DA still causing issues.

They'd assumed that whatever was going on, it was bad enough that he felt too guilty to say.

"Not really. Tell us."

And they listened. Their jaws dropped and their hands twined around each other, as they heard of a Hogwarts where Death Eaters taught, where students were forced to cast the Cruciatus upon each other, where students were flogged and beaten.

"Most of them in the DA are planning on staying there. They're the ones whose families are on the run, or who-who disappeared. And they want to stay so that they can help the other kids. Next year, too."

"And so that they can fight," Luna said, baring her teeth. "So that they can fight the evil from within."

"The Weasleys ran for it," Dean continued. "They're under the Fidelius somewhere. Obviously, Ginny can't tell us where, but she says that they're safe."

Harry nodded again. They'd managed to get in contact with the Weasleys, but nothing more than a Patronus message here and there.

"When you guys are up to it," Harry said, glancing at Hermione again, "you can help. You can fight."

* * *

He was staring deep into her eyes, and he couldn't tear his eyes away. He could see the tears forming, could see the guilt, but he couldn't look away.

He kissed her.

She pulled away after a few seconds, tears streaming down her face.

"It's not that I don't-don't feel that way about you," she said, her face turned away, because I do. I don't-I can't relate to anyone else like I can to you. I love you, but I just can't. Not now."

"So what is it?" he asked despondently. "Hermione, I need this!"

She flinched and turned back to face him.

"I just need time," she said, raising her hand and stroking his face. "I don't want to be feeling guilty. About-about Ron. I just need time, Harry. Please."

"How much time do I even have? A year? Two? Six months?"

"You're not going to die!" she snarled, "we're going to find a way, and we'll- "

"How? You've been through every book here; you've been through every book from the Malfoys and from the Restricted Section. You haven't found a way, other than Dumbledore's theory."

"We'll find a way. We have to. You can't leave me. You can't, Harry. You can't."

He took her hands in his. "I have to," he said quietly. "You think I want to? I just want to-to live while I can."

She chewed on her lip, staring at him.

"Harry, I love you. Not just as friends. We've been through far too much to just be friends. And there is more than a measure of-of desire. I want you. But I see him. And I think of him. And I just need some more time. Otherwise, it'll be-be something I'm not fully comfortable with."

"You think I don't feel guilty? That I don't think about him all the time, feel like I shouldn't be-shouldn't be thinking about you this way? But I can't live like that. I need to live while I'm still alive."

She shook with her tears, and he knew she wanted to contradict him, to tell him how he wouldn't die, how they'd find a way.

But she didn't.

"It's been a year and a half, Hermione."

She threw her arms around him, pulling them tightly together.

"What am I meant to do," she sobbed, "when you die? How am I meant to just carry on?"

And he understood. He understood that a part of her had accepted the inevitable fact of his death, had accepted that one day they would be irrevocably torn apart.

She'd accepted it, and was terrified of it. Was responding to it by keeping a bit of distance between them.

"You'll deal with that when it comes," he whispered, brushing aside some of her hair and speaking directly into her ear. "But until then, we'll live as much as we can."

* * *

"Is Master wanting more treacle-tart?"

"Thank you, Kreacher."

The elf piled some more onto Harry's plate, before offering Hermione.

"No, thank you."

"And Mistress Lovegood and Master Mudblood?"

Dean still looked bemused at Kreacher's chosen form of address for him but did accept some of the dessert.

"Kreacher is not wanting to be disrespectful, Master,"

Harry put his fork down and looked at him.

"Don't worry, Kreacher. Please. Go ahead."

"Kreacher is reading the newspapers after Master is finished with them. And the enemy is not being very afraid of Master,"

"They're more afraid than they were, though."

Kreacher shook his head, clutching the serving tray tightly.

"Mistress Walburga is always saying that people must be knowing to fear their betters entirely. Not in halves. Master must make his enemies afraid."

"They are scared, Kreacher," Hermione said. "They think we're some type of bogymen."

"Begging Mistress' pardon, but they're not very scared. They needs to be knowing what Master will do. They was being scared after Master killed the Malfoys. After Master made an example of the Malfoys. Master needs to be making examples of his enemies. Mistress Walburga is always saying that you need to make an example of your enemies. They needs to be seeing why they must be afraid."

Harry stroked the stubble lining his chin and glanced over at Hermione.

She looked thoughtful.

"Thanks, Kreacher," he said, picking his fork up again. "That's pretty good advice."

"It is being Kreacher's honour. Mistress Walburga is always saying that she taught Kreacher well."

* * *

His curse blew the ground beneath Montague's feet apart, throwing the older boy a few feet back.

He spun around, his wand flashing, his Stunner taking Crabbe just as he was about to attack.

He managed to deflect Montague's next attempt, dimly hearing Hermione yelling at Pansy as the two of them duelled in the background.

He got Montague with a Killing Curse and Disapparated, arriving near Dean.

He was about to attack, to save Dean from Goyle when Luna arrived.

She seemed to jump out of nowhere, and as she did, her wand flashed.

Some spell that Harry didn't even recognize shot from her, its black jet seeming to suck in the star and moonlight as it crossed the intervening space.

It collided with Goyle, and for an instant, nothing happened.

Then Goyle began to scream. There was nothing physical happening, but he dropped his wand and screamed, pawing at his face.

"The Living Nightmare," Luna said with satisfaction.

They heard footsteps approaching through the snow.

He turned around, expecting to find Hermione walking toward them, maybe bringing Pansy if the bitch was still alive.

It was Hermione, and it wasn't Pansy with her.

Nott's wand was poking through her hair, pushing up against her head.

"Don't try it," Nott called, "Don't, Potter. Do anything and the Mudblood dies."

"If you hurt her, I swear- "

"You killed my father."

Harry laughed. "Me? I've killed a lot of scum, but I think it was Bellatrix who killed your dad. Why don't you take it up with her?"

Nott's face contorted.

"It's all your fault!" he spat. "Now, surrender, and I'll let the Mudblood live."

He saw Hermione's hand slowly making its way down her robes.

He saw her eyes and understood what she was telling him.

"How could I possibly trust you?"

"You'll just have to take it on faith. Drop your wand, put your hands behind your back, and walk over here. And I'll let her go."

He saw her muscles move slowly as her hand tightened.

' _Just a few more seconds.'_

"You do realize," he asked, ignoring Dean and Luna, "that if you hurt her, I'll destroy you?"

Nott smiled.

"That wouldn't bring her back, would it? Weasley didn't just come back after you killed Draco, did he?"

Hermione moved. Her backup wand poked through the tiny hole in her robes, and she cast the spell non-verbally.

Nott went as stiff as a board, Hermione tearing out of his grip and running over to Harry as his arms flew to his side.

"You're fine," he told her, hugging her close, "you were amazing, you're fine, you're fine."

He held her close and looked over at Nott, at the man who had dared to threaten one of the people he loved.

"Let's make an example out of him."

* * *

"Lovegood and Thomas are not around, correct?"

Harry rolled his eyes, letting Hermione answer it.

"No. Just like they weren't last time you came. And the time before that."

"And you have not told them about the Dark Lord's Horcruxes?"

"Nope," Harry said, "Still haven't. What've you got for us?"

Snape sighed. "A possible lead on Bellatrix. With Lupin, Lovegood, and Thomas, you should be adequately prepared to take her."

"Explain."

"Since Rodolphus' death, she has been disappearing weekly. She visits his grave."

"Really? I never pictured her as actually loving anyone, other than her Master."

"No-one ever did," Snape said, nodding, "but since you killed Rodolphus, she's been far more insane than ever before. Her hatred of you two has grown considerably."

"Wow. It was actually Dean who got the bastard."

"Nevertheless, she blames you two. And she has become more...irrational. I believe it possible now. She spends Sundays at his grave unless the Dark Lord has a need for her. I would suggest taking her as soon as possible before she changes her habits again."

"Amazing. Amazing. Fuck, we can do it. This week."

Hermione nodded, her eyes distant as she planned.

"I am... concerned," Snape said. "That your usage of the Dark Arts has been twisting you. It is one of the major dangers of it, that it damages its casters' emotions."

"What do you mean?"

Snape just looked at him.

"You impaled Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, Montague, and Parkinson. You burned the Malfoys and Pettigrew alive. These are not the actions of people unaffected by the magic they are using."

"They deserved it. All of them, they fucking- "

"I said nothing about whether they deserved it or not. As it happens, your actions have been beneficial. Those killings have caused more fear among the Death Eaters than all of your other attacks."

"So, what's the problem?"

"The problem is that you may be driven by an uncontrollable bloodlust. That you may not prove capable of applying rational thought to the situations you find yourselves in. That you may not be driven by logical thought processes, but by rage."

"So? What do we do instead?"

"Instead?" Snape asked, looking at Hermione. "I said nothing about changing your actions. But you must be aware of it. You must consciously choose to remain in control, not to let the Dark Arts take hold of you. You must not allow yourselves to cross your own lines. Everything is relying on you two. Everything."

* * *

"You have no idea what I'm going to do to you," Bellatrix snarled. "There are no words for it. Not yet."

He looked over at Hermione, bemused. She just grinned.

"Don't you understand?" she asked, speaking as if to a child. "You're never going to get the chance. You're never getting out of here."

Bellatrix growled and began to struggle again, pushing against her bonds.

Her mad eyes fixed upon the last member of the group in the room.

"Kreacher! Help me! You useless elf, help me!"

Kreacher just smiled and shifted his weight, his hand stroking the locket around his neck.

"Master Harry is saying that Kreacher can be witnessing Mistress Bellatrix's punishment," he said brightly. "Mistress Hermione is saying that Bellatrix is wrong to treat Kreacher badly. Mistress Bellatrix is going to be an example."

She went incandescent with rage and growled out a stream of mingled curses and insults.

"You'll beg me to kill your Mudblood," she hissed, staring at Harry again. "I'll make you eat her limb by limb. You'll beg me for death, Potter. I swear it."

Hermione raised her wand.

"Crucio!"

The instant her screaming stopped, Harry cast the Imperius and forced her to drink Veritaserum.

Her attempts at fighting his control were no weaker than Snape's had been, albeit entirely different.

With Snape, they had been the result of years of training, of a mind focused and strong.

With Bellatrix, her attempts were powered by pure madness, a hammer of insanity.

Still, she answered their questions.

They listened, as she spoke of a Cup hidden in her Gringotts vault, protected by layers of enchantments.

Eventually, the Veritaserum wore off, and they listened as she returned to her ranting threats.

"I'll leave your eyes and tongue for last, you won't be able to stop seeing, to stop screaming, and I'll- "

He looked at Hermione.

"She doesn't deserve death."

"No," Hermione agreed. "Not after the Longbottoms. Not after Sirius."

And with Kreacher watching eagerly and egging them on, they acted.

Harry discovered several things that night.

He discovered that with two people casting the Cruciatus at once, it took approximately twenty minutes before the vocal cords tore.

He discovered that it took approximately half an hour to rip Bellatrix away from her fragile grasp on reality, to send her mind to whatever place it went, to wherever the Longbottoms' minds had gone.

He discovered, though he would never admit it, not even to Hermione, even though he could see she felt the same way, that there was some type of pleasure in torturing a monster into catatonia.

And he discovered, when he and Hermione cried together in bed, the sweat of their ecstasy still drying on their brows, that both of them still felt guilty, felt as if they were betraying Ron with their love.

* * *

They held the sword together, her hands closed around his on the hilt.

And as one, they stabbed.

The Horcrux screamed a high-pitched wail that grated against Harry's ears, as the Cup crumpled, its metal losing its sheen and darkening.

A black, formless mist rose out of the Cup, leaking away and dissipating into the air.

"It's done," he said, half disbelieving how easy it had been, "it's done."

He turned to her. Thankfully, the Polyjuice had worn off.

"It's done," she repeated. "Now just the Diadem, the Snake, and..."

The words hung between them, unsaid.

"The Diadem first," he said, taking her in his arms. "The Snake's always with him, and I'll wait for the end."

"We'll find a way," she whispered.

"We won't. And that's ok. Everything's secondary, remember?"

She sniffled into his shoulder.

"I want to make him scared. I want to make him lose control."

"How?" Hermione asked, her sniffling abating. "Bellatrix?"

He nodded. "She's not going to be useful anymore. It's only a matter of time till they realize she's gone. And a living, ruined enemy is more frightening than a thousand dead."

"Where? Diagon or Knockturn?"

"Diagon. Fewer people there at night. Should be easier."

* * *

The morning after Harry and Hermione destroyed yet another of Voldemort's Horcruxes, Bellatrix Lestrange was found leaning against a storefront in Diagon Alley.

At first, she was simply assumed to be one of the wandless.

That changed when Augustus Rookwood arrived.

As occurred whenever one of the more well-known Death Eaters appeared, the crowds of unfortunate wandless quickly cleared out, hurrying away down winding narrow side-streets.

This time, however, one was left behind.

As he walked through, Augustus barely spared her huddled form a glance, casting a Stinging Hex at her without thinking.

But although his hex did not seem to affect her, the wind of its passing moved her sleeve just an inch.

His eyes flickered toward the movement, and he caught a hint of a black sigil on her arm.

At first, he was sure it was Laurel Parkinson. She had been doing that, drinking herself into a stupor and passing out in strange places ever since Potter had killed her daughter.

Then he drew nearer and saw her face.

Even with her hair all white, even with the extra lines on her face, even with her glazed eyes, he recognized her.

It took him some time to come to a decision.

Eventually, he decided in favour of telling the Dark Lord and pressed the Mark on his arm.

The Dark Lord was there almost immediately.

He had just begun to ask Rookwood why he had been called when he noticed her.

The few shopkeepers who remained in the alley at that point would never be willing to talk about what they saw, even years later. Not until they were a few drinks in, and even then, they would look nervously around the room before speaking.

What they saw was Lord Voldemort raising his second most favoured Death Eater into the air, and gazing into her eyes.

And then his fury took hold of him.

Rookwood had been expecting his Lord to kill Bellatrix, to put her out of her misery.

He was not expecting him to slash his wand, tearing her skin off as if peeling an orange.

He cringed as blood splattered across his face and actually fell to the cobbled ground as he heard his Lord's shriek.

"THIS IS THE PRICE OF FAILURE!"

Bellatrix, skinless now, rose into the air, blood squirting and dripping from her entire body.

The Dark Lord slashed his wand again, and Bellatrix caught fire.

He rounded on Rookwood.

"Your arm. Now."

Trembling, Rookwood pulled up his sleeve and pushed his left arm forward.

And the Dark Lord pressed his Mark and summoned all of his followers to witness Bellatrix's terrible end.

* * *

Harry pinched himself, squeezing almost hard enough to tear the skin.

It didn't help. He didn't wake up. Which meant that it wasn't a dream, that Snape actually was grinning.

Grinning, not merely twisting the corners of his lips upwards.

No, he was actually smiling.

It was almost as strange as when Kreacher had first called Hermione Mistress Hermione.

"You have no idea what you have done. I have never, never seen the Dark Lord so furious. Never. None of us have."

"And that's a good thing?"

Snape sneered, and finally, Harry felt some normality sink into the conversation.

"The Dark Lord's most powerful tool is his intelligence. But his rage is overpowering that. He is not thinking clearly."

"Don't I know it," Harry muttered.

Snape looked up sharply at that, and Hermione explained.

"He's been trying to break into Harry's mind."

"He's been...trying? Trying? Your Occlumency- "

"Is still terrible," Harry interrupted, "but Dumbledore was right about one thing. When I think about the people I love, it hurts him. He leaves straight away when I do that."

Snape's smile returned, not as wide as before, but as unnerving.

"For a moment I was worried that he would discover the truth about me," he said, "I see my worries were in vain."

Harry couldn't help it. He burst out laughing.

Hermione joined in, and after a moment, Snape gave a light chuckle as well.

"Merlin," Harry said, wiping his eyes, "surely it's illegal for something like you to have a sense of humour?"

"Under the current government, many abominations have become accepted."

Harry laughed again, the strong feeling of unreality returning.

"I've seen flashes of his head," he said once the humour had passed, "and furious is the right word. He hasn't even thought of Horcruxes, just about doing terrible things to me."

Snape nodded, his face shadowed once again.

"Why's it a good thing?" Hermione demanded. "Why're you so happy about it? I get that he's not being clever, but he's still horrific!"

"He is. And his followers are only now seeing the truth. You can't truly understand. But every one of us, every Death Eater. At some point or another, we have all felt his wrath. We have all suffered under his wand,"

Snape's eyes went misty, lost in the fog of memory.

"Proud Lucius Malfoy, forced to grovel and ask for a dose of the Cruciatus. And he was not alone in that. But never, never was Bellatrix physically punished. Never. She had activities curtailed, had prisoners removed from her care, but she, like Barty Crouch, like Evan Rosier, was never physically punished. Just like how, since Dumbledore's death, I have not been physically punished. That is what it means to be the Dark Lord's favoured."

"So, when he killed Bellatrix..."

"When he savaged her," Snape corrected, "when he flayed and burned her, his followers saw him losing control entirely. And think of how that must scare them. I feel certain that in the next few months, we will see many Death Eaters fleeing. Not fighting against him, but fleeing to the continent."

"Better than nothing."

"Indeed. And in his rage, he will make foolish mistakes. He already has. Were he thinking clearly, he would have attempted to heal Bellatrix, he would have turned her into a martyr. He would have used your treatment of her, of his most fervently loyal follower, to pull the Death Eaters into a tighter group. But he did not. He brutally murdered her."

"And he'll carry on making mistakes."

"We can hope so. But the rest of his actions have been clear-headed."

"What's he done, so far?" Hermione asked.

"The bounty's been raised. Potter is now worth one hundred thousand galleons. You, Granger, are only worth seventy-five thousand. Doubtless, your muggle parents lowered your price,"

Hermione snorted, but her hand found Harry's and squeezed.

"Lovegood, Thomas, and Lupin are each worth sixty thousand. And each member of the Weasley family, Shacklebolt, Tonks, Dedalus Diggle, Hestia Jones, and your muggle relatives are each worth fifty thousand."

Harry whistled.

"Anyone found aiding the two of you will be given the Kiss. No Death Eater is to travel anywhere alone. He has rescinded his orders regarding you. You are to be killed on sight."

"No more keeping me for himself?"

Snape shook his head.

"Fortunately, he doesn't even suspect you are still here. He hasn't ordered me to search this house for months now."

"Nothing on the Diadem?"

Snape shook his head. "It's not in Borgin and Burke's, I can confirm that much. I don't believe it to be in the Dark Lord's current home. But I couldn't search the place, not entirely."

"And Nagini?"

"Either with him or at his home."

"I think it's at Hogwarts," Harry said. "I'm sure of it."

"And yet, Hogwarts is an enormous castle with hundreds of hidden rooms. Give me something more concrete."

"House-Elves!" Hermione said suddenly.

Snape and Harry turned to her.

"House-Elves," she repeated, blushing a bit. "You're the Headmaster. You can give the Hogwarts Elves orders. Tell them to search for the Diadem."

"That is...not an entirely moronic idea. But there are areas they cannot search"

"Come off it, they can- "

"The Room of Requirement is in use," Snape said, turning back to Harry. "That's where Longbottom and the rest of your DA are hiding, correct?"

Harry nodded.

"While they are in there, the Room cannot be searched."

"So, let them come out."

Snape sneered.

"With the Carrows in the school? With the forty-five students in sixth and seventh year who proudly bear the Dark Mark?"

"Kill them. They all think you're with them. Tell McGonagall and the other teachers the truth, and act!"

"At some point, I will have to. But it can't be rushed. As soon as any of his Death Eaters are killed, the Dark Lord will know. He had told us that he will be monitoring the Marks more carefully. If he finds the Death Eaters at Hogwarts dying, he will summon me. And when I do not rush to his side, he will draw the obvious conclusion."

"So?"

"So, he will attack Hogwarts with everything he has! So, he will know that I am not his, and we will lose any insider information."

Snape stared at them, looking unhinged. Then he breathed deeply and sat back.

"It is not yet time for that. He doesn't yet know about your assaults on his Horcruxes. We still may find a chance to get Nagini. And after that, it may be time."

"Maybe-"

"Yes, maybe! The Diadem might not even be at Hogwarts! We need further confirmation! For now, I'll have the Elves search the school. That's the best I can do right now."

"Fine," Harry muttered, "fine. But I'm telling you, it's there."

"As soon as you have proof, we will act. You two will have to come to Hogwarts. Minerva will never believe me otherwise, even with Dumbledore's portrait's help."

Snape glanced at his watch and rose, nodding at them.

"Good work. But be very careful. Tell Lupin and the other two as well. The Death Eaters are terrified, and those who won't run will do anything to avoid Bellatrix's fate. They are more desperate than ever before to please the Dark Lord, and desperate people are the most dangerous."

* * *

Harry and Hermione were sitting together in the kitchen, sunlight streaming onto the table and over the pages of documents and maps when Kreacher and Luna appeared.

No matter what would come, Harry would never be able to forget that moment.

Luna was staring forward, her eyes fixed on the wall, her face perfectly blank.

And the beautiful green robes she was wearing in honour of the beginnings of spring were splattered with blood.

Her hands shook, and Kreacher seemed to be handling her more delicately than usual.

Harry took all of this in immediately when they arrived, and his mind instantly came to the obvious conclusion, icy-cold fear shooting through his body.

"Luna?" Hermione asked, alarmed, "what happened?"

Luna didn't say anything. She just followed Kreacher's gentle tugging, allowing herself to be led into a chair.

"Luna? What happened?" Harry tried. "Dean and Remus, are they-are they-"

Luna raised her hands in front of her eyes, and Harry noticed the blood on her palms.

"They're dead," she whispered, "Travers, Macnair, and Mulciber. Ambush. Dean and Remus are dead."

They just stood there, staring stupidly at her as she dropped her hands and resumed her aimless watching of the wall.

Kreacher arrived, bearing a steaming mug of tea for Luna.

"Mistress Luna must drink," he said, "Kreacher's special recipe will be helping."

Usually, that would have been enough to break Luna out of her stupor, to make her begin asking question after question about House-Elf brews.

She just took the mug and held it between her palms, slowly sipping at it.

Kreacher motioned them to follow him into the lounge, and he began to whisper.

"It is being special tea. It is calming her down."

"What happened?" Hermione whispered back. "She called you? What about the other two?"

"Kreacher was-Kreacher was too late," he said, his hands balling themselves into fists. "Master Werewolf was already being dead. He was being beheaded."

Harry shuddered, bile rising in his throat. He didn't want to think about Remus dead. Didn't want to think about his head being kept as some type of gruesome souvenir.

But Kreacher didn't stop.

"Master Mud-Master Dean was being very brave," he said with a slight quiver in his high-pitched voice. "He was already being all cut everywhere, and he was jumping in front of a curse so that Kreacher could be saving Mistress Luna."

Harry looked up at Hermione, not letting himself feel. Not yet. Rage would only blind him. Pain would only distract him.

Later he could feel. Not yet.

"Stay with Luna," he said, "I need to tell Tonks."

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"Not a chance in hell. You're not going out alone. Not now."

"I'll wear the cloak, and- "

"I'm not going to sit here wondering if they've got you too! I'm not, Harry! I'm not!"

"We can't leave Luna alone." he hissed.

"Mistress Luna will sleep soon," Kreacher said. "The tea will help."

"Then- "

Hermione shook her head furiously, angry tears welling up.

"We're not leaving her. When she wakes up, we're going to be there for her."

"Then-then we need to bring Tonks here."

"No! It'll shock her completely. We bring Andromeda here. Then she can break it to her gently."

Slowly, Harry nodded, the emptiness within him beginning to burn.

"You're right. Kreacher."

Kreacher stood to attention.

"You know Andromeda Tonks?"

"Mistress Andromeda? Kreacher is knowing her, Kreacher was serving her before she was being disowned."

"Find her. Tell her we need to talk to her urgently. Then bring her back here."

Kreacher was gone.

* * *

Andromeda sat primly; her hands folded together. She didn't look around at the house she grew up in. She kept her eyes focused on Harry.

"You are certain?"

"There's-there's no room for doubt," he said softly.

She exhaled sharply, a single tear making its way down her face.

"Poor Nymphadora. Poor, poor Nymphadora. Poor Teddy."

"You'll make sure she's ok?" Hermione asked anxiously. "That she won't do anything stupid?"

"Nymphadora is my daughter," Andromeda said, still looking intently at Harry. "And though it has, thankfully, been watered down, she bears the blood of the Blacks. She will desire nothing other than vengeance. But her child will keep her from rushing into danger. And if he does not, I shall."

Silence fell on the group for a little bit, before Andromeda broke it.

"Luna. She is unharmed?"

"Physically. Emotionally, she's wrecked."

She nodded, her stare beginning to make Harry uncomfortable.

"She found a form of love with Dean. He brought her hope in the darkness. Do not allow her to lose it."

"I won't."

Andromeda continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Do not allow her to become like you, full of hatred and pain. Even through everything she experienced, she maintained some innocence, some of her naive joy. Do not allow that to disappear."

He nodded, his throat abruptly closing on anything he could have said.

"Thank you for informing me. Now, I must tell my daughter that the man she loved, the father of her son, is gone."

As she stood up, she fixed her gaze on him again.

"Harry. Teddy will need a father figure. He has no father. He has no grandfathers. You are his godfather. You must survive this. For him."

He wanted to shout at her, wanted to scream the truth and watch her face crumple.

He just nodded instead.

"Punish them," she said, her voice eerily similar to that of her mad, dead sister. "Bring them to ruin."

* * *

Harry and Hermione lay on the couch together, just holding each other.

They could hear Luna singing upstairs as she painted, her voice channelling her grief.

Harry tapped the radio with his wand, murmuring "Burbage," and the broadcast began.

"Welcome to another episode of Potterwatch," Lee Jordan said, his voice sounding tinny and dull. "Unfortunately, we will not be running our normal show tonight. May I introduce special correspondent Royal for further explanation?"

Kingsley's deep, gravelly voice took over.

"We regret to inform you all of the deaths of two heroes. People who fought against the tyranny of the current government, people who risked everything in an attempt to better our world. It is with..." his voice shook, wavering for a moment until he recovered. "It is with great sadness that I must inform you all of the murders of Remus Lupin and Dean Thomas. We ask for a moment of silence to honour their memories."

Harry's eyes prickled, as he thought of Lupin. How happy he had been after Teddy had been born. How he'd finally found something of true joy, only to be snatched away.

He thought of Teddy, how he would never truly know his father. How he would never have a godfather either. Not for long.

"We are thankful that the rest of the so-called terrorist group are not among the casualties. Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Luna Lovegood are still at large."

Luna walked down the stairs silently, entering the room and sitting on a recliner without making a sound.

"We thank Remus Lupin and Dean Thomas for the ultimate sacrifice. And we hope that we can live up to the examples they set."

Harry waved his wand, and the bottle of firewhisky flew in from the kitchen, followed by three glasses.

"I would like to introduce two wonderful, special women, to talk about our losses. Princess, the floor is yours."

He finished pouring the whisky and passed the glasses around.

He almost dropped his, when he heard Ginny's voice from the radio.

"I knew Dean from when I first went to Hogwarts. And I-he was kind. He was thoughtful. And he was brave,"

Harry raised his glass.

"He sacrificed himself so that the others could escape. And that was-that was him. He was a good friend, and a special person."

"Dean." Harry murmured and downed his glass.

He refilled it, listening with half an ear as Ginny went on, talking about Dean, how he was never afraid of doing the right thing, how he fought when he could have run, how he shouldn't be dead.

His mind began to wander, and he thought about Ginny. How he had once thought he loved her more than anything.

But she could never understand him, could never relate to the monster he had become.

She couldn't possibly love a man who burned and impaled his enemies.

His arms tightened around Hermione, pulling her closer.

"And I-I can't go on. I'm sorry, but I just can't."

Through the radio came the sound of a chair scraping on wood as it pushed away from a table. And then Kingsley's voice came on, sounding thick and teary.

"Thank you, Princess. I would like to introduce Chameleon. Chameleon, the floor is yours."

Tonks sounded entirely different from any time he'd heard her speak before. She sounded like she wanted to scream and curse, to rage and cry.

But she spoke slowly, and Harry could picture her there, sitting next to Kingsley with her hair a dull brown, looking broken.

He shivered, and stared into his glass, listening to her talk about Remus.

"And he was self-exacting. He had higher expectations for himself than he did for anyone else, and he acted on them. He lived with a strong sense of right and wrong, guiding his every action."

She fell silent for a second.

"And I will miss him until the day I die."

Luna sobbed, and Hermione pulled her onto the couch with them.

"Thank you, Chameleon. Thank you. Is there anything you would like to say, to those who might be listening?"

"Harry, Hermione, Luna. Make them pay. Make them pay."

He shook his glass, watching the sparks from his drink fly.

Letting the fire within him burn.

"We'll find them," he said, his voice grating against his throat. "And we'll make them pay all right."

* * *

"It's taken us quite a bit of time to find you. You fuckers hid well."

Travers growled at him.

The other two didn't even look up.

"Three weeks. Damn. At least you made it easy for us, all of you hiding together."

Walden Macnair finally looked up.

"Who ratted us out?"

Hermione laughed shrilly, fingering her wand.

Luna just stood there, staring into the fire with a blank face.

"You really think we'd tell you? Are you really that fucking dumb?"

"You're going to kill us anyway," Mulciber said, sneering at Harry. "At least let us go to the grave with that."

Harry joined Hermione in laughter and Luna turned around, drawing her wand.

"Nope. Nothing doing. And you will die. But we've found an interesting spell to try."

Hermione raised her wand. "Remember, an upward flick at the end, inflection on first and last syllables. Cruor Ignis!"

Harry and Luna followed suit, casting the curses.

Mulciber looked relieved when nothing seemed to immediately occur.

The other two though, they recognized the curse. A dark spot appeared and began to spread on Travers' robes, and Macnair started to cry.

"By tomorrow morning, your blood will have boiled to the point where it starts evaporating. By tomorrow night, every drop of blood in your worthless bodies will be gone. And it's supposed to be excruciating the whole time."

"And the best part," Hermione said with a savage grin, "is that once it starts, there's no stopping it. No counter-curse. No cure. Nothing. It's too late for you."

Luna said nothing, she only watched the three men with tears in her eyes.

* * *

Three days after they had dealt with Lupin and Dean's murderers, Snape's Patronus appeared in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place and announced in an excited voice that he would be coming over shortly.

Harry put aside the Daily Prophet, another flash of rage shooting through him as he saw the headline again, and turned at Luna's giggle.

"I knew it! I knew your informant was Snape!"

Then her face fell.

"Dean said I must be mad," she whispered, "but I knew I was right."

"You were right, Luna," Hermione said soothingly, "it is Snape. He's been on our side all along."

Luna smiled weakly. "I knew it."

The front door burst open, and Snape barged in.

He was smiling again. He glanced at Luna, his smile weakening, but then he turned to Harry.

"Did you see the paper? Did you see it?" he demanded.

"I did," Harry growled. "What's got you so happy about it?"

"What's got...it's a trap. A trap for you."

Hermione gasped, and Harry stood up, his hands forming fists.

"I kind of realized that when they announced that they're going to destroy my parents' graves and tear down their house in a week! I don't-"

"He has Nagini waiting for you," Snape said, smiling again, "Nagini, and no-one else!"

Harry's heart skipped a beat.

"Only Nagini?"

"Only her. He has performed some horrific magic; she is within the body of Bathilda Bagshot. She is waiting for you and will grab you and prevent you from Apparating. Bite you. Then she will summon him. The link between them, it is much like the link between you and him. Except he makes use of it."

"So, we go to Godric's Hollow," Harry said, beginning to smile himself, "wait for her to pitch, then attack with the sword. It couldn't be easier!"

"She is still exceptionally dangerous. She may not be able to cast spells, but the Dark Lord has performed terrible rituals on her. She is far greater a threat than you seem to think."

"Luna, you'll be hiding behind us," Harry said, ignoring Snape, "under the cloak, and under whatever body heat hiding charms you can find. Hermione and I will go to the graves, let her approach us. If things go wrong, you attack."

Luna's face hardened, and she nodded.

"Nothing on the Diadem?"

"No luck from the Elves. If it's there, it's in the Room of Requirement"

"We'll deal with it after the snake."

He looked at Hermione. She was smiling, with tears in her eyes.

Like him, she realized what it meant.

As soon as they killed Nagini, they would only have to deal with one more Horcrux before he would have to die.

And like him, she must have felt that it would be soon.

* * *

They stood before his parents' graves, unbridled tears filling his eyes.

Before he'd even been able to understand it, his life had been paved with death.

It had only continued, over the last eighteen years.

Almost everyone he loved died, and these were the first two of them.

"The last enemy to be destroyed is death," he whispered, rubbing the tombstones. "Wouldn't that be nice?"

Hermione sniffed loudly beside him.

"I hope I've-I've made you proud. Even with everything I've done. Everything I had to do. I never wanted this. I never wanted to kill anyone."

' _I never wanted to enjoy it.'_

"You sacrificed yourselves for me. I hope it was worth it. I'll be-I'll be seeing you pretty soon, I think. I hope it's peaceful. I've had enough of violence."

' _Liar.'_ said a spiteful voice in his mind.

"I think she's there," Hermione whispered. "At the gate."

He turned around, and sure enough, there was a hooded figure standing there.

She raised a hand in greeting, moving jerkily.

' _It,'_ he reminded himself, ' _it. Bathilda's dead. This is a monster.'_

And he was Harry Potter. He killed monsters.

He looked at his parents' graves one last time.

"Wait for me," he whispered. "I feel like it's going to be very soon."

They walked forward slowly, the dead leaves crunching under their feet.

As they drew nearer, he could make her appearance out more clearly. She looked...haggard. Not as terrible as he would expect from a snake hiding in a human body. But old. Sick.

They drew nearer, and his hand tightened on the sword's hilt, hidden inside his robes.

Nagini waved at them again, beckoning them forward.

He caught a flash of Voldemort's mind.

' _Keep them! I come!'_

He barely managed to keep from staggering, as he saw through Voldemort's eyes. He saw Voldemort in France, preparing to Apparate in jumps until he could reach Godric's Hollow.

Still he drew nearer, until the scent of decay filled his nostrils.

His fingers tightened on the hilt.

He whistled a short, toneless sound.

Hermione leapt nimbly to the side as he pulled out the sword.

Nagini tried to jump too, but she clearly wasn't used to walking on two legs.

She fell into the path of the sword.

Whatever enchantments were on the sword, they kept it sharp. Sharp, and with greater cutting ability than a normal sword would have.

It sliced straight through the defiled body of Bathilda Bagshot at the waist, splitting her and the snake within in two.

As the halves fell, Bathilda's body fell apart into a swarm of dust, leaving Nagini's shaking corpse behind.

He had a moment of satisfaction, where he looked at Nagini's two halves, bleeding out onto the muddy ground, the dissipating black mist of the Horcrux leaving her broken body.

And then Lord Voldemort erupted with fury and fear.

Harry collapsed, his head hurting worse than ever before, glimpses of Voldemort's thoughts smashing into his mind.

Dimly, he heard Hermione calling for Kreacher.

' _He understood that it had been a trap, that it had somehow been turned back upon him. Grim worry filled him, and he changed course, heading for the Gaunt Shack to check, to ensure that his others were safe.'_

He felt a small hand curling tightly around his.

' _First the Ring. Then the Locket. Even if they had forced Bellatrix to speak about the Cup, they may not have broken through the enchantments.'_

As he was pulled along with Kreacher through the nothingness of apparition, Harry caught the tail end of Voldemort's thought and smiled.

' _The Diadem is certainly safe. None but he had discovered the Room, not in recent years. Nevertheless, after Gringotts, he needed to go to Hogwarts.'_

And even though the rest of Voldemort's thoughts were full of the terrible torments he had planned for Harry, even though the thoughts themselves were carried upon wings of brutal rage that clawed against his mind, Harry heard them and smiled, as unconsciousness took him.

* * *

He woke up with a start, his head still aching, a terrified hatred that was not his pounding through his mind.

"Harry!" Hermione threw herself onto him, her arms so tight that his air supply was threatened.

"It was him? What happened? You just collapsed, you haven't been responding at all, and- "

"How- "he coughed, the action making his head feel like it would burst. "How long's it been?"

"Only a few hours. What did you see?"

"Voldemort. He realized. He's going to check on his Horcruxes. And- "

' _He stood on the little island, his disbelieving stare taking in the empty bowl where a portion of his soul should have rested. He screamed, his voice carrying his magic, making the entire cave shake.'_

"He's at the Cave. He must've checked the Shack already."

He looked up. She was pale, trembling.

And he smiled. "The Diadem. It's in the Room. He's going to check on the Cup, then he's going to Hogwarts."

Her eyes widened, "you're sure?" She whispered.

He nodded.

"Then we-we need to go. We need to get there before him, we need to take the castle. We need to tell Snape, and- "

"Go," he said, interrupting before she could get too involved with the planning.

Before she could push it off too long.

"Get Luna ready. I'll tell Snape. Then we go."

She hesitated, wavering between her need to stay with him while she still could and her desire to get ready.

"Everything's secondary," He said with a wry smile, the words bitter on his lips. "Everything."

She jumped up and ran out of the room.

And he began to concentrate.

He thought of the train ride back from Hogwarts, at the end of his third year. He'd just discovered that he had a godfather. He had his two best friends with him.

And he was happy.

He held that image in his mind, the memory of them laughing in their compartment in the Hogwarts Express after Ron had asked Crookshanks to check if Pigwidgeon was really an owl.

God, they had been so happy then.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Prongs appeared.

It sent a jolt through him when he saw the silvery stag. He'd been more than half expecting his Patronus to have changed form.

And yet, it hadn't.

He felt tears coming, felt the suddenness of it all starting to crash down on him.

He brushed his feelings aside.

"Go to Snape," he ordered, "tell him Nagini's dead, and we have confirmation that the Diadem is in the Room. Tell him we're coming, and to get ready for war."

* * *

"What do you think he wants, Minerva?"

She looked down at Filius and sniffed. "I don't know. I honestly don't know. I hope it isn't more of his new regulations."

Filius growled, his long fingers running over his wand.

"I will not stand for more of them. I will not, Minerva. If it is...well, then I will be forced to follow in Potter's footsteps."

She paused at the beginning of the corridor, the rest of the teachers behind her and Filius coming to a stop as well.

Filius, though talented a warrior, did not take part in battles.

In the first war, he had stayed out, saying that he was a teacher first, that he would only fight to defend the students.

But she could remember one time that he had fought. Once, when Hogsmeade had been attacked.

And it had been a thing of terrible beauty.

"If so," she said, "you will not be alone."

He nodded at her, and the procession began again.

As they walked up the spiral staircase to the Headmaster's office, to the office that she would always think of as Dumbledore's, she began to wonder further. Why had all the teachers except the Carrows been summoned?

What was the traitor planning?

She pushed open the door to his office, and all of her thoughts fled.

The first thing she noticed was the dead bodies of Alecto and Amycus Carrow, lying on the carpeted floor

Then she saw the people standing next to the traitor and her jaw dropped.

"Potter?" she whispered, "Harry? Harry?"

And it was him. Standing next to the traitor, with Hermione Granger and Luna Lovegood next to him.

It was him. Older. Harder. His face more lined, his eyes warier and somehow more dangerous.

But it was him.

"No time to catch up," Harry said impatiently, "no time! Listen, Snape's on our side, and- "

Her eyes shot to the traitor, to the tiny small pulling at his lips.

"Dumbledore- "she began, only to have Harry cut her off immediately.

"Dumbledore was dying. The curse on his arm. He had Snape kill him to be a better spy. Trust me!"

"But- "

"It's true, Professor," Hermione chimed in. "It's true. I swear it."

Her mind began to fly, and it was just too much, too sudden, it couldn't be true, it couldn't, she couldn't have absolutely despised Severus for the last two and a half years, not when it was all for him to keep his cover.

Instinctively, her gaze shot to her mentor's portrait.

Albus Dumbledore nodded solemnly.

"It's true, Minerva. Severus never betrayed us."

"Severus, I-I should-I'm so- "

Harry staggered.

Hermione caught him before he fell, but his eyelids were fluttering and his face was twisting into a grimace.

And no-one did anything.

As soon as it had begun, Harry's fit ended, and he straightened up, running a hand over his face.

"Harry, please, tell us- "

"No time!" he shouted. "Snape, he knows about you. He's gathering up his forces."

Severus paled and gritted his teeth, giving a curt nod.

"We need your help," Harry said. "Voldemort's going to attack the school. He's gathering up his forces now. All the surviving Death Eaters, some giants, his werewolves."

Filius growled again and drew his wand.

"Let them come."

"You need to hold them off. There's something in the Room of Requirement we need. We need to get the DA out of there. Luna,"

Harry turned to her, and Minerva wasn't surprised to see the Lovegood girl pulling out a galleon.

"Call Neville and the rest. Tell them to clear the Room. Snape, tell them."

Severus began to speak, his voice thicker than usual.

"Horace, Filius. Within your two houses, there are approximately forty-one Death Eaters. Pomona, there are eight in yours, and Minerva, yours is clear,"

She allowed herself to feel some pride in that, to be glad she had been able to prevent her students from starting down that path.

"Here is the list. The DA will be assisting. We need to neutralize the threat within our walls."

"N-neutralize?" Horace asked, stuttering and sweating.

"Kill them," Harry said.

There was a moment of silence, and everyone began to shout at once.

Hermione blew a firecracker out her wand, and the teachers fell silent.

"We don't have time to argue about this," Harry said. "Voldemort will be here soon with a fucking army. If you leave them free, they're going to be stabbing us in the back. So yes, kill them before they can kill us. Capture them, if you really want to be merciful. But a quick death is better than a lifetime in Azkaban."

"Harry," Horace said, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief. "Please, listen to yourself, you can't- "

In a flash, Harry and Hermione's wands were trained on Horace and he fell silent.

"This is all your fucking fault," Harry hissed. "If you hadn't told him what he wanted to know, if you'd been just a bit less stupid, we wouldn't be in this fucking mess. Now shut up and listen to me."

"They're clearing the Room," Luna called.

Harry nodded and turned to Severus.

"Call the elves. Get them ready. We'll meet them by the entrance and find the fucking thing."

Harry ran his eyes along the assembled teachers, coming to rest on her.

She felt proud, watching him wearing the mantle of a leader. Watching the boy who had been in her House, the boy who she had loved as her own, the boy who she always had wished she could have done more for.

"I wish we had more time," he whispered, staring into her eyes, sending a jolt of fear through her. "But we don't. We just don't have time"

He was certainly right about that.

As the rest of the teachers bustled around her, reading the lists Severus had produced, she could barely believe that it had only been ten minutes since they entered this office.

"Thank you," Harry said, still staring at her.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, a terrible suspicion dawning in her mind, something too large to be specific, something to do with the way Harry had thanked her, as if he was saying goodbye.

From his portrait, Albus spoke again, sounding as old and weary as he had in the last days of his life.

"Good luck, Harry. Good luck."

* * *

"The last one," he said, hugging her, "the last one we can do."

She began to cry, shaking in his arms.

"It's ok," he said, "maybe Dumbledore will turn out to be right. You never know."

"I don't want you to go," she whispered. "I don't want to be alone."

He kissed her, standing there in the Room of Hidden Things, Voldemort's second last Horcrux on the floor in front of them.

The screams and spellfire from the rest of the castle could be heard even in the room. Giants bellowing and werewolves howling filled the night.

But they kissed, while they still could.

Slowly, they separated. He wiped the tears from his eyes and pulled the sword from its makeshift holster.

Together, they destroyed the Lost Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw.

"Only one left." He said, as the mist from the Diadem vanished into the air.

She hugged him again, crying until she was sure there were no tears left.

Because she knew Dumbledore would be wrong like he had been wrong to leave Malfoy in Hogwarts.

She would be left alone, the last one standing.

So she hugged him tightly, until he gently pushed her off, murmuring something soothing.

"We can't stay here forever, Hermione."

She could see the pain in his face, she could see that he wanted nothing more than to just hide away in the Room of Hidden Things with her.

But everything was secondary to Voldemort's defeat.

Everything.

"Hermione," he said, struggling to get the words out, pushing past the blockage in his throat because this had to be said. "I love you. More than I could ever say. These last few years. Without you, I'd have-I'd have offed myself. And I'll always love you."

She started crying again, leaning against him.

"But I need- "

His voice hitched, tears blurring his vision again.

"I need you to be strong, ok? No matter what happens. I need you to be strong."

"Harry, I can't. I just- "

"You have to. You have to, otherwise, it's all meaningless. If-if Dumbledore was wrong, you need to make sure that someone kills the bastard. And you need to be strong afterwards. I need you to. I need to know-"

He turned aside, shaking with pent-up sobs.

"I need to know that I won't be seeing you on the other side. Not anytime soon. You need to live, Hermione. Have a long, happy life. And I'll-I'll be there with you. Maybe you won't see me, but I'll be there. I love you. So much."

She hugged him tightly, not bothering to speak, not bothering to try and force her emotions into words that could never do them justice.

"Harry," she said, just before they exited the Room, just before they entered the fray. "I just... I love you. And if you see Ron. Tell him-tell him I'm sorry."


	5. Epilogue

Epilogue

"No one ever _does_ live happily ever after, but we leave the children to find that out for themselves."—Stephen King-The Wolves of the Calla

* * *

He sat on the dewy grass, watching the sky light up.

He wasn't thinking about anything. Soon, someone would come, and he'd have to talk, and he'd have to think.

Soon, she would come.

But until then, he sat, watching as the night was slowly eaten by the sun.

And as if his thoughts had summoned her, he heard footsteps.

And somehow, even after a goddamned battle, she still carried a faint smell of roses that wafted through the air, proceeding her presence.

"What's going on back there?" He asked quietly.

He didn't turn around. He just carried on sitting, facing resolutely away from the castle.

From where, amidst the blood and bodies and death, the sound of celebrations could be heard.

"They're gathering the bodies up. Finished sending the wounded through to Saint Mungo's. Other than that, it's pandemonium."

He nodded. Of course, it was pandemonium.

It had already been starting, the instant Voldemort fell.

He'd taken one look at a group of people laughing, laughing while they sat a few feet away from where the Weasleys were crowded around Charlie's body, and he'd donned his cloak and slunk out.

"There's some Ministry types talking. They want Kingsley to be the next Minister. They're trying to decide what to do with the captured Death Eaters."

He snorted.

"Kill them all."

"Don't I wish. They're also arguing about Snape."

He turned to look at her, snarling.

"Really? After everything? Our testimony wasn't enough? Dumbledore's wasn't enough? The man fucking killed Rookwood! He, McGonagall, and Flitwick fucking duelled Voldemort to a standstill, and they're still arguing?"

She shrugged, and stood there for a second, before dropping to the grass next to him.

"Bureaucracy never changes."

He snorted again, turning his head back to the horizon.

The adrenaline was beginning to wear off, leaving his hands with a tremor as the full weight of the last forty-eight hours hit home.

It boggled his mind, that it had only been two days ago that Snape had arrived in Grimmauld Place.

So much had changed in that time.

She slowly reached over, taking his hand in her own.

"You came back." She whispered.

"I almost-I almost didn't," he admitted hesitantly. "I had a choice, and I almost didn't."

"You'd have left me," she started, her voice hurt and small, "how could you even have considered it?"

"I just-what's there for me here? I don't exactly have any skills,"

He barked out a laugh.

"Unless you can count killing and torturing."

"You have me," she said, tears filling her eyes.

He sighed.

"That's why I came back. Because there's still something good. More than good. But it's just..."

He squeezed her hands, unable to speak for a moment.

"When he called for me," he said haltingly, speaking in stops and starts. "I was in the Great Hall. And you-I couldn't see you."

"I was helping in the dungeons."

He continued as if she hadn't spoken.

"And I thought you were dead. No. I knew you were dead. And everywhere around were the dead and injured. Charlie, Seamus, Katie, Susan, Oliver, Dennis, Sprout, and-and all of them. Too fucking many to count."

She nodded, the beginnings of grief for her friends and schoolmates starting to sink in.

"So I went. I had to die, and I couldn't think of a reason to live, anyways."

She didn't speak. Even if she had, she wouldn't have had the words to express her emotions.

"That walk through the forest to him...God, I'd do anything to never have to do it again. But at some point, I remembered that Snitch. And I remembered your theory..."

' _His numb fingers pulled the Snitch from his pocket, the first Snitch he'd ever caught. He remembered the words written on it. How could he not? They'd spent hours and hours thinking about them, trying to figure out what they meant, how to open it. Hermione had been beyond certain that Dumbledore had hidden the Resurrection Stone in it. After all, the Snitch had a tiny triangle, circle, and line carved into it._

 _He'd come to agree with her, but neither of them had been able to work out any reason Dumbledore would have for giving it to him. Being Master of Death sounded good and all, but he didn't have the Wand._

 _Eventually, they'd stopped thinking about it, focusing more on the missions of the time, focusing on capturing Death Eaters or killing them outright._

 _But now, as he walked through the forest to his death, he remembered all their conversations._

 _He began to cry, thinking of her._

 _Thinking that he would at least be seeing her soon._

 _And then, standing there in the forest with the sounds of Death Eaters ahead, it came to him._

 _He didn't have to think about it. He knew what to do, as he had known the first time he'd flown._

 _As he had known the first time he'd killed a Death Eater._

 _He raised the Snitch to his mouth until his breath fogged up the gold.  
_

 _And said: 'I am about to die.'_

 _The Snitch split open.'_

"It was the Resurrection Stone," he continued, words coming out in a rush, the tears streaming faster down his face. "And I used it. They came. My-my parents. Sirius. Remus. Dean."

Her hand tightened on his, her nails biting into his skin.

"And he didn't. Ron didn't come. And neither did you. And I realized you were still alive. I almost ran, right there. I almost didn't finish it."

"You did, though."

"I did. I thought-I thought Ron must've hated us, for him not to come."

' _He was looking through the misty group, searching for the one person who he needed to see._

 _But Ron wasn't there._

 _His father stepped forward, putting a ghostly hand on his shoulder._

 _And for the first time that Harry could remember, he felt the weight of his father's body._

' _Don't you worry about it,' James said, smiling tearily at him. 'He wanted to wait there, so he could welcome you when you arrive.'_

 _That set him off._

 _He started sobbing, all the emotions he hadn't allowed himself to feel breaking though._

 _He was going to die, and he had to walk calmly to his death._

' _It's all right, mate. It's all right.'_

 _He wiped his eyes, looking up at Dean._

 _Dean looked good. His face didn't have the haggard appearance it'd gained over the course of the war, instead, he looked comfortable and at ease._

' _Harry, it's ok. It's ok to be scared. But you've done fucking well, mate. You've set one hell of an example'_

' _You shouldn't have had to die,' he whispered. He looked around at them all, at his loved ones._

' _None of you. Remus, you should have had more time with Teddy, and now he won't have anyone.'_

' _He'll have Hermione,' Remus said, stepping forward. 'And he'll have his mother and grandmother. And he'll have you. Even if you're not there. He'll still have us'_

 _His head moved of its own accord, coming to face his parents._

' _We're so proud of you,' Lily said, stepping forward and hugging him. 'So, so proud. You've done so well.'_

' _You have,' Sirius said, pulling his hands from his pockets and rubbing them together. 'Even with almost everyone against you, you've done well.'_

' _And I'm sorry, for what it's worth,' Lily continued, her own translucent face shining with her tears. 'That you had to go through so much pain.'_

' _The things I've done. The things I had to do...'_

 _James came forward again, looking into his son's eyes._

' _You did what you had to. You made the decisions no-one else could. You fought a war, son. No-one wins a war by being all lovey-dovey. It just doesn't happen. But you fought a war, with very few allies, and you fought your enemy damn near to a standstill. And you are my son. Even if you really were a monster, I'd love you no matter what.'_

' _Our son,' Lily said. 'Our brave, incredible son. And now...now it's time. You can't leave it too long. Or the fighting will start again.'_

 _He nodded, pulling himself to his feet._

' _Does it hurt? Dying? Will it hurt?'_

 _It was Sirius who answered first._

' _Not at all. As quick and easy as falling asleep.'_

' _And he'll want it to be quick,' Remus added. 'He's scared that you'll manage to pull some miracle off, so he's not going to mess around. It'll be quick.'_

' _After everything you've been through,' Dean said, 'dying will be one of the least painful.'_

 _He nodded again and looked around the group, his eyes finding those of his mother._

' _Stay with me. Please.' He asked quietly._

 _She smiled at him with tears running down her face._

' _Until the very end.'_

"I dropped the stone just as I reached him," he continued. "And they all just disappeared. He was waiting for me. With his followers. In some clearing there. And then...he did it. And I died."

Hermione squeezed even tighter, her breath coming quickly.

"But I woke up. It was beyond strange, this place. It was like-like an enormous train station. Just everything covered in a white fog. And then Dumbledore appeared."

"Dumbledore?"

"Dumbledore," He repeated, nodding. "Told me how proud he was. And that he was right. I could come back if I wanted."

He sat there for a moment, not speaking, just remembering.

The sun was beginning to rise truly, the top of it appearing in the east.

"I came so close to just staying there," he admitted. "So close. I can't explain it, but it was so good there. No worries. No fear. No pain. No guilt. It was like that feeling under the Imperius. And I knew what was going on here, but I couldn't relate to the bad stuff. But I thought of you. And I couldn't just stay there."

"What did Dumbledore say then?" she asked, enthralled.

"Told me how it's a good decision. How I mustn't allow myself to feel guilty, that I did what I had to. That I need to live, now. And then- "

' _Dumbledore released him from the embrace, smiling at him with tears in his eyes._

' _There's someone who you've been waiting to see. Before you go back, you two should have a chat.'_

 _As suddenly as Dumbledore had appeared, he was gone. But the white fog thickened for a moment, taking form._

 _And then it vanished, and Ron Weasley was standing in its place._

 _Harry gaped. Ron stood there, smiling slightly._

' _Good to see you're still a midget, even on this side.'_

 _Harry howled with laughter, because it was Ron, and he was joking, and it was either laugh or cry._

 _And there could be no crying. Not in this place._

' _Ron,' he said, rubbing his eyes, 'mate, I should have done better, you shouldn't have had to go, it's my fault- '_

' _Stop.' Ron said, and there was a strength behind his words that had never been there in life._

' _Harry. Enough with this beating yourself up shite. You tried. And you can't save everyone. But look at you, mate. You're still alive, if you want. So live. I don't blame you. Remus doesn't blame you. Dean doesn't blame you. So, stop blaming yourself.'_

' _I wish you hadn't died.' Harry whispered._

' _Me too. But I did, and there's no changing that. But you can live, Harry. You can have a life.'_

' _It's so peaceful here.' Harry said half-hoping that Ron would suddenly say yes, Harry should stay._

' _Peaceful? This is just the entrance. This place is nice, but the next part...'_

' _It's that good? You're happy?'_

 _Ron grinned. 'It's like the Hogwarts Christmas banquet. Always. That feeling, you know?'_

' _Just...happiness.'_

' _Pure happiness. Even though we know what's going on, even though we can see you guys in pain. It's like...I can't explain it. I'm happy. But you can live. And you should.'_

 _Harry nodded, pulling Ron into a hug._

 _And even though it shouldn't have been possible in this place, in this wonderful place, he felt tears filling his eyes._

' _It's so hard there.'_

' _That's life for you,' Ron said, his voice muffled by Harry's embrace. 'it sucks, but it's amazing. That's life.'_

 _Harry nodded, finally pulling away._

' _If you decide to name a kid after me,' Ron said, grinning again, 'don't call him Bilius. Please, don't. No-one deserves that.'_

 _Harry smiled weakly, not wanting to say goodbye, not again._

 _Knowing he had to._

' _Tell my family that they were the greatest. Seriously. Try and help mum. After me and Charlie, she'll need it.'_

 _He nodded again._

' _What about Hermione?'_

 _Some semblance of wistful sadness crossed Ron's face._

' _I can't think of anyone better for her,' Ron said. 'Honestly. But tell her...'_

"He said he wishes he'd been less stupid. That he told you how he felt. And that you deserve to be happy."

Hermione shook with her tears, pulling him close.

"And he said to give you this."

He kissed her, allowing himself to forget all the pain, letting himself get lost in her taste.

Slowly, they pulled apart.

She smiled.

He looked deeply into her eyes, watching as the last tears fell and were not replaced.

And he moved forward, joining his lips to hers once again.

When they finished, she asked, laughter bubbling under her voice.

"Ron told you to do that twice?"

"No," he said, shaking his head with a smile. "That one was all me."

They sat there together, hand in hand, as the sun rose.

They were prepared to face the future.

They knew it wouldn't be an easy path. Voldemort might have been killed, but many of his followers were still at large.

Many of the attitudes that let him rise still existed.

They could not be truly happy, not yet. They had gained victory, but it had come with such a heavy price.

Still, they sat there, watching as the sun rose over a world that did not contain Voldemort.

It may have sucked, but it was amazing. It was life.

And finally, they were content.

 **THE END**


End file.
